The Bare Lynx Project

The red, orange, and yellow leaves quietly compressed underneath the waffle-like texture of the rubber sole with each step. Though the month was nearly over, the trees hadn't completely shed their beautiful foliage quite yet, leaving plenty of fresh leaves to snap and fall silently onto the cookie cutter yards of the suburb. Crossing through the front yard, the owner of the shoe hadn't noticed the nearly invisible tripwire bridging from the spike laden trunk of a honey locust tree across to the dark green hydrangea shrub. That is, until the nearly deafening detonation of the firework set his eardrums alight.

"You better run, you little bastards!" a middle aged man exclaimed, the screen door banging against the side of the house as he burst from the home.

"What the hell dad?!" Bryce barked, the tips of his index fingers plugged into his ears, struggling in vain to alleviate the ringing in them that dizzied him.

"Dammit Bryce, now I have to rig that up again." he sighed, nearly tripping over the freshly carved Jack-O-Lantern that sat on the top most porch step.

The teenager's nostrils flared at the stink of recently scorched gunpowder from the still smoking novelty firework, blackened paper shreds still tied to each sides of the wire.

"Why?" was all he could muster as he watched his dad disappear back into their home, soon emerging with another pull-string cracker bundled up in his palm.

"Don't you remember last Halloween? I nearly fell off the ladder trying to get all that toilet paper off the trees. Damn teenagers. I thought with the shortages, there wouldn't be a chance of anyone wasting it. We couldn't find any for weeks and these bastards had a stockpile, just to throw it all over everyone's yard!" the man vents, kneeling in the grass as he goes to work rearming the booby trap.

"Uh....huh. Does mom know about this?" the human asks, adjusting the straps of his backpack the dug into his collar bone.

"She's too busy planning for her party to care. As long as I take these down before the trick-r-treaters arrive tomorrow, she could care less." the father shrugged, looping the string around his dexterous fingers, securing a tight knot at each end of the string.

"Well, since you guys have that party and everything on Halloween..." Bryce starts, turning his head to avoid his father's suspicious gaze.

"Go on." the older male coolly hums, wiping his palms over his pant legs, frowning at the grass stains that now covered the denim.

"I got invited to spend that night over at Michael's house." Bryce states.

"Michael......Michael.....that isn't the boy that got caught shooting off a flare gun at prom, is it?" the father grunts, narrowing his eyes.

"What? No! Of course not." Bryce scoffs, rolling his eyes back.

To be fair, Michael was only the one that brought the flare gun, but it was Carter that set it off, so, technically, he was telling the truth. Good thing the school was too cheap for proper security cameras that could easily document faces in dim lighting. Otherwise, the superintendent wouldn't have been footed the bill to pay for all the damages caused by the sprinklers ruining the gym floor. One would think with the money saved on a good security system, they'd at least splurge on some insurance.

"Do I know this boy?" the father continued, starting his walk back to the house, growing chilly from the cool October air.

Unlike his father, Bryce wore a light hoodie, so the constant breeze hadn't effected him.

"He's in a bunch of my classes." he replies, dodging the question.

"You didn't answer me." the man states in a gruff manner, him and his son both ascending the steps of the porch.

"Why would you? I don't bring over every single one of my classmates." Bryce sighs, pulling open the screen door for him and his dad.

"Are his parents going to be home? I mean, he does have parents, right?" the dad asks, stepping into the warm interior of the house, kicking off his indoor slippers that he put on in his hurry to run outside.

"Obviously." the son rumbles, growing impatient, though doing his best to stay calm, knowing he needed permission or else his night would be ruined.

"No booze or anything? Vape pens? Uppers? Downers? I heard all about those pill parties being thrown. I watch Dr. Phil, just like everyone else in this town." Bryce's father interrogates, sniffing the spiced aroma of a pumpkin pie being pulled out of the oven by his wife.

"Jesus, we're just going to play games and watch scary movies, is that okay?" Bryce exclaims, untying his shoes, before setting them down beside the front door, joining his father's.

"Did you ask your mother?"

"I did last night. She said to ask you."

"No funny business?"

"None."

The pair turn into the dining room, the father grabbing his can of ginger ale off the coaster set atop the wooden dinner table, watching as the mother pulls the oven mitts from her hands.

"What do you think, hon?" he asks his wife, after a sip of his drink.

"Yeah. Whatever. Did you run to the store yet? I told you two hours ago that I'm one dash away from being out of nutmeg and I still have three pies yet to make." the woman sighs, wiping her brow with the back of her hand, before running a finger down the list of ingredients, the paper blotched with flour coated fingerprints.

The father suddenly tensed up.

"Just make sure to call us at nine o'clock, so we know where you are. Okay? Bye." the dad said in a rush, booking it down the hallway, patting his pockets for his car keys.

Watching with faint amusement as his dad did all but leave a dust cloud in his hurried wake, Bryce feels a sly grin spreading along his lips.

"Need any help?" he turns to ask his mom.

"How many teaspoons are in a tablespoon? Two and a half? Four? I think it's three. Three? Better double check." she pants, sliding across the floor to the fridge, scanning a magnet slapped to the metal that held a convenient list of baking conversions.

It took a moment for Bryce to realize she wasn't asking him, but rather herself. Knowing the signs of when his mother was in baking overdrive, he felt it was wise to just retire to his bedroom, at least until his dad got back. Pausing as his stomach let out a growl, the human teen pulled open the fridge, grabbing a bottle of flavored water, before rummaging through the pantry for a pumpkin spice flavored granola bar. He frowned at the flavor, already having hit pumpkin spice exhaustion a week into the month, but beggars can't be choosers. Bryce climbed the staircase and pushed open the door to his bedroom, freeing his backpack with a rock of his shoulders, landing with a loud thud from the combined weight of his biology, history, and math textbooks slamming onto the ground. The springs of his mattress gave a muffled creak as he sat, pulling out his phone. Quietly, his fingertips tapped across the screen, rapidly typing out a text message to his sheep friend.

==============================================================================

[3:13 PM] we're on for sunday

==============================================================================

As quickly as the message was sent, the status went from "Delivered" to "Read" just as fast. Keeping the phone in hand, he watched the triplet of dots bouncing as Michael began to reply.

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[3:13 PM] hell yea. dont puss out on me now
[3:13 PM] shut up. is it just going to be us?
[3:14 PM] yea. that scare u?
[3:14 PM] only the thought of being trapped with you
[3:14 PM] XD
[3:14 PM] cya tomorrow

==============================================================================

Bryce scooted to his end table, plugging his phone into his charger, before getting up to sit in at his desk. Unzipping his backpack, he brought out his algebra textbook and a notebook.

"Oh, I hope I didn't just fuck myself." he thought with a lump in his throat.


The bored expressions of the class were far from hid, the pairs of half-lidded eyes watching the cramped screens of their calculators as the pixels darkened with each graph that dotted across from one end to the other, the results scribbled into the blank margins on their worksheets.

A quadratic equation has two roots if its graph has two x-intercepts.

A quadratic equation has one root if its graph has one x-intercept.

A quadratic equation has no real solutions if its graph has no x-intercepts.

Truly, truly fascinating shit.

No, really. Witnessing the parabola cross over the x-axis was the kind of thing that captured Bryce's attention and made him adore algebra class. It had nothing to do with the fact that Mrs. Garcia was one of the few teachers that had a preference to wearing open toed footwear. Despite the fact that the bulk of his class time was spent gawking at the alluring, mature feet that were visible as they sat under her desk. The aroused human went through many pencils, gnawing at the shaft, feeling the polished wood chipping away against his molars, while his eyes witnessed her toes clenching, absentmindedly flexing as she graded papers and texts, even slipping her shoes off entirely on rare occasions to give him a show of her scrunching her soles. Needless to say, Bryce didn't do a great job during class nor did he learn much in those forty-five minutes. Amusingly, the human forced himself to study online in his free time, until he grasped whatever was being taught that day. Had he not, the chance of him being put in remedial algebra were staggering. He was damned if he would be deprived of the Latin beauty that taught his class and instead being thrown to the feet of Ms. Hilda. Not literally, of course.

Still, ugh.

You remember that mean, ugly bitch from the movie Matilda? Yeah? Then you get the picture.

A growl began to rumble in his throat as he watched the line of the graph being plotted in ways so incorrect that Bryce may be disproving the very formulas being pounded into his head for the last week straight. Shaking his head, he jotted down the results, knowing damn well they weren't right. He was too distracted to care by this point. He blinked as something small and light bounced off the back of his bronze head of hair, falling to the floor soon after. Glancing down, he found it to be a balled up piece of loose leaf paper, presumably torn from someone's notebook. Ignoring it, he licked his fingers and flipped through his textbook, curious what went so wrong in his formula.

While reading, he moved his hand up to scratch at his scalp, sending four similar sized balls of paper falling down onto his desk, having been caught in his hair for some unknown time. Goddamn it, whoever was trying to get his attention was persistent. Up until now, they were only partially successful. That is, until a large, pink eraser audibly cracked against his head, leading to the quietly joined snicker of the classmates near him. Before turning, Bryce glanced up at the teacher, seeing her sitting with a graphing calculator of her own as she double checked homework from the night before, none the wiser to Bryce's ordeal.

Looking over his shoulder, he was met with the beaming, mischievous grin of the sheep. Michael gave an eager nod to Bryce. What he was eager about, Bryce would find out when class had ended. There wasn't much longer to wait. The bell rang shortly after.

He got up from his desk, kicking the eraser into the corner of the classroom as the other classmates raced to escape the classroom.

"If you hadn't finished last night's homework, please turn it in, before leaving!" Mrs. Garcia announced, despite half the class having left already.

Bryce pulled the completed assignment from his binder, though spending the latter half of the class trying to correct it had been useless. The teacher gave him a warm smile, which he was happy to return.

"Any plans for the holiday, Bryce?" she asked in her gorgeous accent.

"Just hanging out with friends." he hums, laying down his almost certainly failed assignment.

"No candy?" Mrs. Garcia chuckles, adding his sheet to the pile.

"Eh. Feel I'm a bit old for that, don't you think?" he scoffs, trying not to stare.

"No one is too old for free candy." she adds with another friendly chuckle.

"He's sleeping over my house!" Michael butts in, quite literally too as the ram, well, rammed his way behind Bryce.

This action took Bryce and their teacher both by surprise.

"Oh, well that sounds fun. Don't do anything too crazy now." she cautions, Bryce visibly trying to contain himself at the ram's irritating ways.

"Wouldn't dream of it!" Michael grins, smacking Bryce in the back with both hands, repeatedly doing so as he forced him away from the desk of the teacher.

After a parting wave and a shake of her head, the teacher sighed and shuffled the papers together into an organized pile. The two students emerged out in the hallway, filled with the energetic chatter of everyone, eagerly discussing their plans for Halloween, figuring out last minute plans, getting directions to the parties being thrown, and everything in between.

Bryce quickly walked down the hall, dodging the others, while weaving between them to try and lose the sheep who was hot on the human's nonexistent tail. As he arrived at his locker at the corner of the hall, there would be no escape.

"Hey! Why didn't you answer my texts?" Michael huffs through his snout, stopping to stand next to Bryce as he fiddled with the combination lock.

"What texts? You didn't text me anymore last night."

"Uh, during class? Duh."

"I don't keep my phone on me during class. Last time it got taken away, my parents said they'd kick me off their plan." Bryce explains, dropping off his algebra book, freeing some weight from his backpack.

"Oh, wah." the sheep rolled his eyes, the vertical pupils always giving Bryce the creeps.

"Why, what's so damn important that it couldn't wait until now?" he sighs, pulling out his bagged lunch from the shelve organizer he installed in his locker, much to the cries of "nerd" that he got from the ram.

"You are ready for Halloween, right? No backing out now." the sheep asks, leaning against the locker beside the human's.

"For the last time, yes. Fuck. Why would I back out now?" Bryce barks, removing a box from his locker.

"Aaron and Carter did and it was their idea! Pussies." the sheep shakes his head, lip upturned in disgust.

"If I wasn't serious, would I have gotten this?" Bryce states, pulling open the lid of the small cardboard box.

With his free hand, he reaches inside, presenting an equally small bag. The velvet color of the cheap flannel bag was accented by the gold stitching of "Crown Royal".

"Whiskey? Hell yeah, let's get fucked up." the sheep grins.

"No. Idiot." Bryce rolls his eyes, undoing the top of the bag as he turned it over, a small GoPro spilling onto the cardboard.

"Oh. Less cool, but still cool." Michael nods, "Can I see?"

"You break it, you buy it." Bryce cautions, reluctantly handing over the camera.

The sheep felt the weight in his hand, tapping his fingers across the translucent plastic case protecting it. His clawed digit traces out the empty SD slot.

"Don't forget to add in an SD card." he warns, starting to push at the buttons, until the screen lit up.

He had some familiarity with the camera, having used one of the original models for activities of questionable legality. He tapped away at the touchscreen, scrolling through different settings.

"Expensive?" he asks.

"Eh, yeah. I got it used off Crackslist for a few hundred off. Bought it from one of those guys that only wants the newest and best, so whenever a new model comes out, they immediately sell the old one they use."

"Nice. I would have talked him down even lower." Michael hums, pretending to take a video of some girls that walked past, the hyenas giving him a sour look.

"Alright, hand it over." Bryce growls as he watches.

"I'm just checking it out. I think we can get some good footage with this thing." he grins, tossing it to Bryce, who went wide eyed as he caught it.

"As long as I'm doing the recording. This thing has night vision too." he adds, putting the camera back into the back, before boxing it up to store safely back in his locker.

"Since when did those get night vision?" the sheep questions.

"Since this model and the latest one."

"Cool. Maybe we'll capture some real spooky shit with it." Michael excitedly states as him and Bryce walk off.

"Unlikely, but it should be fun." Bryce shrugs, the two of them walking to lunch.

"Maybe even encounter a real life ghost." the sheep smirks.

"Gimme a break. Ghosts aren't real." the human snorts, bagged lunch in hand.

"Whatever helps you not piss your pants at night." Michael taunts.


"I'm telling you. Weird shit always happens here at night." Carter states, before sinking his teeth into an apple.

The lunch room was as rambunctious and chaotic as usual. A few teachers stood around at various points of the cafeteria, watching over the students, cautious that the Halloween spirit could result in some careless shenanigans.

"Yeah right. I'll believe it, but only when I see it. With my own two eyes." Bryce firmly states, undoing the cling wrap of his sandwich.

"I heard that back in the 70s, this woodshop teacher was eating his lunch during class and one of the kids spiked his drink with acid. He got so fucked up and started seeing stuff, that he shoved his head onto a table saw and cut it off. Now he haunts the place and attacks any kid that misbehaves. Someone said you can see a headless shadow in there when no one else is around." the hyena exclaims, spitting a few breadcrumbs across the table as he does so.

"Bullshit. If a teacher did that, it would have made national news." Bryce snorts, brushing away the spittle covered bits of bread with a napkin.

"Nah uh. Back then, news didn't travel far. The school probably covered it up too!" the fellow human defends.

"Well, I heard that years and years ago during Driver's Ed, the teacher showed one of those really gnarly traffic videos to the class. The ones with all the dead bodies and car accidents with nothing blurred out. This one guy was watching and got so scared that he literally had a heart attack and dropped dead right on the floor in the middle of everyone." Aaron adds, along with a swig of his sports drink.

"They don't even teach Driver's Ed here." Bryce points out, taking a bite of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

"Uh, well, yeah, they stopped after that guy died." Aaron nods along.

"Sure they did." Bryce laughs.

"I heard that there's this one eyed pirate that buried all of his treasure down in the basement and there's this weird, creepy, deformed guy down there too." Carter jumps back into it.

".....that's literally the plot of The Goonies, dude."

"What's a Goonie?"

"Okay, if you're all done being stupid now," Michael begins, "I have an actual story that isn't bullshit."

"Oh, I'm all ears." Bryce mocks, going back to his lunch.

"Good. Then shut up and listen." the sheep rumbled.

The others sat and kept quiet, curious as the sheep hadn't told of any stories before.

"You all know Mrs. Garcia?" Michael asks.

Hearing the name, Bryce lifted his head.

"Yeah, why?"

"Cause she's seen shit too." Michael grins, leaning in towards Bryce.

"Like what?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"A witch."

"A witch?"

"Yeah. A witch." Michael nods, bumping the side of the human's head with his muzzle, "or as she calls it, a bruja." he hisses, making sure to roll his tongue for dramatic effect.

Bryce stayed silent, skeptical as always, though he did see the woman as smart and intelligent. He didn't take her for the superstitious type too.

"I heard her talking to one of the aides during study hall. They were speaking Spanish, but I knew what they were saying." the ram nods.

"Ha! You mean you're actually passing a class?" the hyena snickers.

"I'm in Honors Spanish, asshole. I've been taking it since freshman year, so, yeah, I know a word or two." Michael growls, glaring at Aaron.

"So, what'd she say?" Bryce asks, growing more interested.

"That a teacher died. I think it was back in the 80s or something, but I can't remember. It was a gym teacher. Heard she was a real bitch. Nasty lady. Always making everyone pull double duty. Running laps after school for hours on end. Whipping them with towels. Slapping anyone who stepped out of line. Pelting them with dodgeballs. I think the final straw was when she went after the football players. She overworked the quarterback too hard, making him climb a rope from the floor, all the way up to the ceiling. He fell. Grip slipped and he fell bad. Landed weird and snapped his ankle like a toothpick." the sheep rumbles, speaking with a quiet tone that was still audible over the rowdy volume of the others.

And they hung on every word.

"Then what?"

"They retaliated. When she was out by the swimming pool, they threw a bag over her head. You know, one of those sacks they keep balls in. Anyway, they tied it over her and kicked her into the pool. They thought they could get her all wet and pissed off, but that was it. They'd run away and by the time she got the bag off, they'd be long gone. Well, that's not what happened. When they kicked her in, she didn't fall right. She caught the side of her head against the lip of the pool. Knocked her out cold, but they didn't know. They ran like hell and left her in the pool. When the next class arrived, they found her floating. Belly down." he continues, fingers drumming against a small container of milk by his side.

The boys sat in silence. Unlike the other tall tales, this one was at the very least plausible. No gory payoff or stomach churning details. Just a prank gone wrong.

"So, Mrs. Garcia said she heard that from the principal and a few other teachers. They don't talk about it in front of the students. It's just a bad event they buried and moved on with their lives. But she's seen the bitch. She stayed after school once. Had to work up a new study guide and grade some papers. Lights were flickering. Nothing too strange, cause maintenance was being done at the time. This was around when the new addition was being built onto the school. Well, I guess some shit shouldn't have been dug up. So, she's done and ready to walk to her car, but sees something. You know where Mr. Adams room is? That used to be her old classroom. The one by the auxiliary gym, before the new one was built. Mrs. Garcia is walking by, but she hears something. A ball. A basketball being bounced, pretty damn hard from how she told it." the sheep whispers, gazing at the others, who were now leaned forward to hear more.
"She pushes open the door and walks inside. Silence. No basketballs anywhere. She goes over to the equipment room to see if someone was staying late too. Door was locked. Alright, so she's just hearing things. Whatever. Late night, brain gets sleepy, whatever. She turns to leave the gym, but hears something else. She looks over and sees the equipment room is open. No one else was in the gym with her. So she sees this door just open on its own. Then, she hears something else. She didn't know what it was, but whatever it was, it was pissed. Sounded like a hiss or a roar. Something a big cat would make. She says, 'fuck this', and runs out of there and sprints to her car. Last time she ever stayed late." the sheep finishes.

Bryce swallowed a lump in his throat, staying frozen in his position, ass lifted completely out of his seat.

"Damn." the hyena breaks the silence, after some time.

"You could ask her, but I wouldn't bother. I tried and she just got all tensed up and said she didn't know what I was talking about." Michael concludes, sipping at his milk.

Bryce said nothing. He knew the teacher well and didn't think Mrs. Garcia would lie to another teacher or make up stories. He also didn't think the sheep was capable of telling such a believable story either.

The bell clanged it's noisy cry, causing the trio of boys to nearly jump out of their skin or fur. All that is except for Michael, who just sat there with a chuckle.


The human stood in front of his locker, clutching the GoPro box in his hands. As the ones ran full speed down the hall, the final bell having rang minutes ago, Bryce stood alone and lost in his thoughts. Surely, this place wasn't haunted, right? That shit isn't even real. The only thing he had to worry about was getting caught by someone and having the cops called for trespassing. At least he'd have Michael with him, though that wasn't very much comfort. Stuffing the camera in his backpack and zipping it shut, he started down the hallway towards the front of the building. He passed by his Algebra room, glancing inside to see if she was still there, but found the classroom empty instead. Shrugging away the negative thoughts, Bryce continued to walk along the hallway, soon exiting the building to join the line of students piling into buses, but not before running into the sheep one last time.

"Watch where you're walking!" Michael sneers, thumping his shoulder against the human's almost knocking him off balance.

"Yeah, uh, sorry." Bryce clears his throat, adjusting his bag.

"Someone looks like they've just seen a ghost. Well, maybe not yet, anyway." the ram taunts, observing how distracted the human appeared.

"How do you know that story was real and not just her trying to freak out the aide?" Bryce demands to know, clinging to his inner skeptic for dear life.

"Yeah, I thought you'd ask. I did some searching during last period." the sheep grins, pulling out his phone, so he could bring up a screenshot.

Bryce gazed at the screen, feeling his stomach drop at the sight of an aged newspaper column.

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September 3rd, 1984
LOCAL GYM TEACHER FOUND DEAD AFTER FREAK ACCIDENT
==============================================================================

He now knew indeed that he may have fucked himself.


The sound of the twigs of the bush straining, before cracking and snapping, caused the human to hold his breath, clutching the handlebars of his bicycle as he tried his best to slowly guide it down. In the dead silence of the night, the typically commonplace noise was instead amplified to his ears, sounding as if his presence had been alerted to half of the township. Once he felt his bike at last resting against the solid earth, Bryce lifted and maneuvered the stubby limbs over top, concealing the reflective aluminum of his bicycle to his satisfaction. Considering that the school existed near the clearing of a vast woods and field, the chance of someone passing by to even see his bike upright would have been incredibly slim at best. Still, he didn't want to chance it. Getting caught would be bad enough, but letting his imagination run wild with whatever consequences his parents could think up was far worse.

The parking lot was devoid of any vehicles, but still well lit by plenty of street lights as it always was. Bryce tried to gauge if the building inside was lit as well, but the tinted windows of the classrooms made this unexpectedly difficult. He stayed on the adjacent, unlit lawn of the building for now, feeling an odd excitement as he skulked around in the shadows, giving in to the temptation to perform a few rolls over the grass with a stupid grin on his face.

"You done being stupid, yet?" a voice called.

A squeak was made not just by Bryce's voice, but his shoe as it slid over the dew that shined on the blades of grass, leading him to landing flat on his ass.

"Keep your voice down!" Bryce hisses, ironically louder than the leveled volume of the voice that spoke seconds ago.

Pulling himself up off the lawn, he looked up to see the sheep sitting on the four stepped staircase, the entrance hidden beyond an unlit alcove. Michael's face was subtly lit by the screen of his phone, casually browsing it, while he waited for the human to show up. As Bryce tiptoed over the asphalt of the parking lot, he kept his eyes on the sheep, discovering he was dressed exactly the same as he would during a school day. Bryce on the other hand, had worn a dark gray baseball cap and a crimson red hoodie to help him blend in with the red brick facade of the school's exterior.

"Took you long enough." Michael chides, sending some texts to the others that Bryce had indeed shown up, before reminding them again that they are in fact still pussies for not tagging along with them.

"I had trouble finding the trail in the woods. Where did you come through? Did you hide your bike too?" Bryce asks, standing at the foot of the staircase.

"Nah, my mom dropped me off." he nods, slipping his phone back into his jeans.

"What?" Bryce deadpans.

"Yeah. Told her I had detention again. She didn't question it." the sheep assures, standing up with a sigh, spinning on his heels to face the door in front of them.

Shaking his head, Bryce followed close behind. The unlabeled door was one he hadn't noticed before from outside, placed between the main entrances at the front and back of the school.

"Is it locked?" he asks, taking the small backpack off his shoulder.

The sheep reached into his waistband, slipping free a long, thin, flat-head screwdriver.

"That's breaking and entering." Bryce cautions, watching the sheep sliding the blade of the screwdriver between the door and doorframe.

"It's not even locked." Michael smirks, stabbing forward, until he felt the metal latch, which he eased back.

Pulling at the handle, the door swung open with only a mild creak from the hinges. Stepping into the threshold of the entrance, the sheep turned to face the strike plate. He then dug the tip of the screwdriver inside, scraping loose a wad of chewing gum that had been previously crammed inside, preventing the latch from actually locking.

"Told you it wasn't locked. Just needed some easing open." the sheep chuckled, before flinging the days old wad of gum into the parking lot.

Initially, Bryce was impressed by the planning, until he heard the sheep mutter, "Can't believe that actually worked". Stepping in with the sheep, he shuts the door behind, hearing the latch audibly click back into place. He then jiggles the handle, double checking that the door would only be locked from the outside, but not the inside.

With the main lights turned off, the hallways were instead lit by the emergency lighting. The red "EXIT" sign quietly buzzed above their heads. A bulb shined every other yard or so from a recessed area in the ceiling tiles, providing just enough light to aid one in walking, but not enough to properly illuminate the building. The polished tiles of the hallway gave a soft glow against the lighting, shimmering over the blue painted locker doors that lined each side. Bryce set his backpack down, unzipping the largest pocket, freeing a flashlight, which he passed to the sheep. Taking the other in his hand, the human then retrieved his GoPro, which was firmly secured to a handheld gimbal to stabilize it as they'd walk and film.

Michael slid his thumb against the metal shaft of the flashlight, quickly finding the power button. With a click, the lone beam of light penetrated the darkness in front of them. Bryce didn't splurge on anything with crazy high lumens, so he provided some standard flashlights from the hardware store instead. Cheap and reliable. Hopefully.

Bryce zipped his bag and threw it back over his shoulder, clicking on his flashlight, before powering on the camera. After double checking it was recording, he looked over at the sheep, who was testing out his flashlight via shadow puppets with his hands to the wall to their side.

"Alright, guess we're doing this then." the human states, his light joining Michaels, adding enough light to see down the majority of the hallway in front of them.

"That thing recording?" he asks, nodding towards the camera in Bryce's hand.

"Yup. Got a 128 gig card in it too, so that should last for the night." Bryce confirms, slowly walking down the hall.

Michael then jumps in front of him, shoving his muzzle into the lens of the GoPro.

"WHAT IS UP GUYS?! IT'S YA BOY RAMROD HERE AND TONIGHT-" the sheep yells with a wide-eyed expression.

"Will you shut the fuck up!?" Bryce barks, pushing away the sheep with a firm shove to his chest.

Michael stumbles back with a snicker of delight.

"C'mon then. Let's see what we can find." the sheep grins, heading down the hall with a quickened step.

Bryce follows behind, their lights bobbing up and down. Having attended the high school for years, they were both able to practically navigate blindfolded, which was a positive. The normally lively, spirited environment took a much more unnerving turn the further they walked. Neither had ever seen it so empty before. Even walking the halls during class, they'd run into the occasional person and could hear the muffled lessons being delivered through closed doors. Now, there was nothing besides their lone footsteps and breaths.

"Where to first?" Bryce asks, keeping his light aimed at the ground, since the sheep kept his aimed upwards.

"Shop class is down at the end of the hall. Maybe we'll see a dead teacher without a head." he replies, aiming his light underneath his face to deliver a ghostly tone.

"Yeah, I'm sure we won't just find sawdust and splinters." Bryce snorts.

The various trade classes were kept towards the ends of the building. Autoshop, woodshop, and metalshop. They knew they were on the right path once they realized there were no more classrooms to either side of them. No teacher wanted to deal with the constant racket of power tools during their lectures. The kitchen for home economics was pushed back by the cafeteria, so the smells of cooking didn't distract or seem out of place. Maybe they'd check that out afterwards, find some snacks or something.

Bryce started to wonder if they'd run into any janitors or ones with careers in the custodial arts. The floor itself did appear to have been gone over with an electronic buffer within the last few days. If the rumors were true, then it would make sense for them to get their work done as fast as possible when school let out, lest they get stuck working during the nights. He then had the thought if they had the same sense of unease when they cleaned the empty, desolate halls that Bryce and perhaps Michael were feeling at that very moment.

The sheep swept his light side to side, examining the nameplates to the right of each doorframe as they neared the classroom. Finally, his beam shined across the double doors, something only a select few classes had when large equipment was going to used.

"Here we are." he announces, pushing against the crash bar, relieved to find it unlocked.

Following behind, Bryce laid his hand against the metal door, gently guiding it back to avoid the loud clash of the heavy door colliding with the thick frame.

"Careful. Watch the windows." Bryce scolds as the sheep shines his light all over the place.

"What?" he shrugs, continuing to do so.

"Flashlights inside an empty school doesn't look very good to anyone driving by. You want the cops to get called?" the human growls, keeping his aimed at the floor.

"God, you're paranoid." the sheep sighs, avoiding the windows when possible if it meant not hearing the human complain any more.

The room was at least twice, if not triple, the size of a regular classroom. Four large wooden tables were mounted to the floor in a squared pattern, big enough to comfortably hold four students at each one with enough room to work on whatever project they were assigned. A planer sat towards the back of the room, installed in the middle to allow enough space to insert larger pieces of lumber from either end. To their left, three drill presses stood tall against the wall. On the other side, two lathes sat with plenty of warnings slapped on, bearing hazard yellow stripes and illustrations of what injuries improper use could result in. Hand tools were kept inside a handcrafted cabinet, along with a shelf with scrap wood that still had some life left in it.

"See anything missing?" Bryce asks, walking between the tables, minding the stools that were placed on top.

"What?" Michael calls back, leaning down to blow at a layer of sawdust that pooled on a drill press, watching it swirl in front of his light.

"A table saw?" the human points out.

"Guess the school is too cheap for a new one." the sheep shrugs with a smirk, looking at the projects in progress.

A worktable with a collection of shelves above was used for drying. From a pass of his light, he could make out a cutting board, chessboard, birdhouse, and even a small stool being laid out to dry. Long, adjustable clamps of both metal and plastic construction were applied, dried bubbled strands of creamy yellow wood glue squished up from between each wood piece from the tension, which would be sanded down later on. The aroma of freshly cut wood and the faint scent of stains and sealants was both heavy and appealing. Bryce just might have to jot this down as his next elective when the next semester rolled by.

While the sheep looked around and checked out the tools, including nicking his fingertip against the tooth of a saw with a quiet curse, Bryce examined his camera. So far, so good. The GoPro was filming accordingly at a high resolution, though the ISO balance was a bit out of whack with their flashlights clashing with the night vision. Humming to himself, Bryce tilted the camera up as he fiddled with the settings. With the ambient light coming from the outside and the sheep's flashlight sweeping around, the ceiling seemed to be his best bet. He watched as the screen calibrated itself, the colorless image growing more and more clear. After its adjustment, he could now make out the ducts overhead and the extension cords the dangled from the ceiling, hanging above each table whenever a power tool was needed. Bryce tapped at the screen to save the current settings. Once they left the classroom, he could fine tune them some more, but this would do for now. As he went to lower the camera, one of the extension cords caught his eye.

It should have been an extension cord, just like the others. Only it wasn't. The muted orange PVC cord was nowhere to be found. Hanging in its place was a stretched out rope. Instead of a tri-pronged ending, it instead ended in a noose. It didn't make sense nor would it, but here it was. Through the camera, Bryce could even make out each frayed tangle of hemp that curled up from the ancient rope, the thick knotted end bulging as it silently hung from the rafter. Bryce immediately snatched his flashlight and aimed it up. The cord hung with the others, nothing out of place, the copper plug reflecting back some of the light back at him. He then pulled the camera back up, seeing the same extension cord right where it should be. No noose.

"Hey." Michael calls out.

Bryce flinched and spun around, blinding the sheep with his flashlight. Wincing, Michael held his hand out to block out some of the infuriating light. Apologizing, Bryce lowered the flashlight.

"Was this you?" he asks, his furry finger pointing down at the floor.

The smooth, rubberized coated concrete was dirty with sawdust. Slightly unusual as the teacher would have the students sweep up after each class. Vents were installed at ground level to suck up and collect all the dust whenever the vacuum was switched on, so this kind of mess wasn't to be expected. The sawdust wasn't the concerning part. The footprint in the middle was.
"I don't think. Doesn't look like my size." Bryce shakes his head, planting his shoe down beside the footprint.
When he pulled his foot back, his dwarfed in comparison. The unknown footprint was at least five sizes bigger than his size eleven. Whatever. It's not like big guys doing carpentry was so out of the ordinary. Nothing to be alarmed about.

"Probably just from class or something." Bryce brushed it off.

"Maybe." the sheep shrugged, going back to looking around, this time approaching the teacher's desk.

Bryce tried to pay it no mind, though the incident with the noose kept replaying in his mind. Maybe it was just a trick of the light or something. After all, he was trying to calibrate his camera. His eyes didn't deceive him, but the GoPro seemed to. The small comfort soon slipped away as he examined the floor some more.

More footprints.

The same monstrous sized foot too. Strange. There weren't any other footprints. Just this set. Even Michael and him had managed to avoid disturbing the sawdust as they walked around. Keeping a firm grip on his light, Bryce walked forward, following the tracks. They passed between the tables and workbench, continuing to the wall. He expected the tracks to stop, but instead, they went on. And on. And on, until they reached the wall. They didn't seem like they stopped at the bricked wall, but rather went through it. The final footprint seemed to originate from the other side, only the front toe visible as it compressed the sawdust by whatever body that wandered around.

"Ready to go?" Bryce asks, swallowing the dry of his mouth as he turned.

"Oh man." Michael laughed to himself, finding a collection of empty chewing tobacco tins underneath some safety forms at the bottom drawer of the desk.

His phone once again in his hand, the sheep snapped a few pictures with delight.

"I seem to remember tobacco products being banned on school grounds." Michael sneered, quickly gagging as he also discovered a once empty Coke bottle that doubled as a spittoon.

"C'mon, we can't spend all night in here." Bryce huffs, wanting to leave the room immediately.

"Don't have to tell me twice." Michael retched, slamming the drawer shut with his.

A birdhouse sat on the shelf. The redwood was sanded for an entire class period, until the surface was as smooth as glass. The fragrant linseed oil had finally dried the day before, allowing the grain of the wood to pop and shine. No humidity or foul conditions would penetrate the finish as it hung wherever the owner decided to hang it in his yard. A perfect home for an avian companion. The pristine exterior of the home began to morph. Quietly, it popped, hairline fractures breaking out along the seams, the nails hammered into the side visibly straining from an invisible force that was desperate to break free. Unable to contain it for a moment more, the side of the birdhouse erupted, a fist sized hole splintering the wood with a shockingly loud crack.

Both Bryce and Michael yelped at the sudden noise, the human falling backwards against one of the work tables.

"What the fuck was that?" Bryce yells out, frantically shining his flashlight around in a panic.

The surprised sheep flashed his beam of light around, soon falling onto the now ruined birdhouse.

"Huh. Think it fell from the shelf or something." the oddly calm sheep shrugged, picking it up to shine his light at it.

The human was already walking to the door, doing so backwards, so he could keep his eyes on his companion and the object in his hands.

"Shoddy workmanship. What a piece of shit." he smirks, poking a finger through the hole, easily digging out more splinters from the wood that now had the resilience of a wet newspaper.

"Yeah, I'm sure that guy will be pissed." Bryce nervously mocks, sweeping his light over the top shelf, seeing there were indeed some projects resting up there, so the theory was plausible.

"Let's fuck off, before we break something else." the sheep suggests, not waiting for a response, before he pushes open the doors to walk back into the hallway.

Bryce was hot on his heels, not wanting to be left alone. The doors to the woodshop shut behind them with a hiss of the hydraulic mechanism, before the latches clicked into place.


"Why Mr. Adam's room?"

"Uh, you know? Creepy shit goes on in here." Michael states, testing the handle of the classroom door, finding it also unlocked.

"Like what?" Bryce asks as Michael pushes the door open, walking into the desolate room.

"You know. Dude fought in 'Nam. Still has his dogtags too in here. Some bad juju, man." the sheep nods, making a beeline to the desk.

The classroom contained the same layout as the others. Teacher's desk front and center, whiteboard behind. Twenty or so desks arranged in a 5x5 layout. A rolling map was installed above the whiteboard with a separate rolled up projector screen on the opposite side of the room. The American flag was proudly hung in a corner of the room, though from the thickness and quality of the material, it was clear that it wasn't the standard cheap ones every room had. It was a relic from the war the teacher had fought in. Another way he brought real life experience into his lessons, which the students adored. Most of them, anyway. The teacher wasn't shy about throwing the term "beatnik" around.

Bryce quietly walked around the perimeter of the classroom, shining his light over the walls. Mr. Adams hung up the reports and essays that got the highest marks, with the student's permission of course. The ones hanging this time were written of the buildup and causes of The Great Depression. It was a favorite course for the teacher as it would end with a discussion of Prohibition and organized crime.
He looked up at the model airplanes of Spitfires, Huey choppers, and B-17 bombers, some pristine, while others the teacher had applied weathering and even battle damage for an authentic look. Sadly, his hands had arthritis, so they weren't as steady as they used to be. As he reached the middle of the room, he took a passing glance across the rolled up projector screen. From the corner of his eye, he watched as the pull cord twitched.

Stopping, he looked down at the string. It slowly waved side to side, much in the manner of a cat's tail. He licked his finger and crouched, feeling no breeze of any kind against his saliva coated digit. Strange. The tassel gradually moved faster, the plastic end cap clacking against the white wall. He gently cupped the end in his hand, stopping it. There was no force coming from the string itself, nor did anything fight him to keep moving. Letting it go, he watched it go from a stationary position, back to its taunting swaying. Very strange. Maybe it was the door being left open that resulted in some weird air current? Hmm, but if that were the case, he would have felt it? Things rapidly progressed from curious to unsettling as the cord began to lift. Into the air it went, Bryce's eyes growing wide as dinner plates as he watched the slacked line being manipulated by some entity. The human shivered a breath as the cord twisted and curved into a familiar shape.

?

The plastic tip being the dotted end of a question mark, once again tapping against the wall. It didn't tap in the manner it had before. This time, it made a rhythm. His jaw tightened as it created the sneering pattern of "Shave and a Haircut". The human's breath stayed trapped in his lungs as he waited for the punchline. After an agonizing silence, it was delivered as promised, coming through in the form of a two thumps behind him.

Whirling around, Bryce wildly swung his flashlight as if it would ward off whatever had taunted him. Instead, he managed to once again blind Michael. The fear that smothered Bryce like a wet blanket was instantly shed with anger as he saw the sheep ransacking Mr. Adams' desk.

"The hell do you think you're doing?" Bryce snaps.

"What?" Michael replies, down on his knees as he pulls open the last drawer of the desk.

Sifting his hand through the binders and papers, his eyes light up at a familiar touch. The sheep chuckles to himself as he pulls out an unnecessarily large vape that looked like a damn VHS tape with a nozzle.

"What? He took my vape." the sheep repeats, innocently shrugging as he pocketed his property.

Without another word, Michael leaves the classroom, his flashlight beam descending down the hallway.

"You coming?" he soon calls out.

Bryce walked to the desk, making sure nothing looked out of place on the violated furniture. He then looks back at the pull cord at the back of the room, which innocently dangled.

"Coming." he exhales through his nose, shutting the door behind him, the deep, gravely chuckle from a disembodied throat falling upon deaf ears inside the once again empty classroom.


Bryce felt himself cringing whenever he lifted his flashlight as him and Michael walked the hallways. The thought of some spectre breaking through the beam that was once in the back of his mind was now front and center. Michael didn't seem to walk with a pep in his step anymore, which was strange. He didn't think that the sheep had any unexplainable experiences so far. At least, none that he witnessed. Bryce was far too distracted dealing with his own. The birdhouse he could maybe explain from it falling down off a shelf. He hadn't, however, seen it up on the shelf to begin with, but why the hell would a damn birdhouse spontaneously explode? Probably the same thing that caused the cord to move by an unknown hand. Maybe that noose he saw wasn't a trick of the eye anymore. Maybe he was just tired and letting his imagination run wild. C'mon, Bryce didn't believe in any of this shit. It was Halloween and he slept like hell the previous night, staying up well into the night trying to plan out how he'd approach the school. Had he known the sheep was getting dropped off, he would have asked for a ride.

They soon passed the administration office, Bryce refusing to look through the double glass doors lest he risk finding someone staring back. Once they passed the office, he quickly realized where the sheep was leading them to. Bryce gulped as his flashlight shone over the nameplate, "GYMNASIUM".

"How about we leave after this? My battery is getting low." Bryce asks, checking his GoPro to see that it was only at half charge.

"Didn't you fully charge it?" the sheep groans, approaching the doors.

"Yeah. I think the night vision is killing it though." the human claims.

Rolling his eyes, the sheep kicks open the doors to the gym, causing Bryce to nearly wet himself.

"Jesus." the human hisses, looking over his shoulders, visibly uneased as he half expected to see something charging at them for daring to make such a ruckus.

Letting out his telltale snicker, Michael waltzed into the gym, waving his flashlight around. Expecting it to be empty, they were both surprised to see some equipment just laying about instead. A wheeled cart full of dodgeballs was placed against the pulled out bleachers. Bundles of tangled up jump ropes laid scattered over the wooden floor. Moonlight came through the windows high up, casting an eerie shine over the polished basketball court in its silver glow.

"That's weird. Guess the teacher was running late or something?" Bryce asks, mostly to himself, though the sheep overheard.

"I dunno. Let's ask." he grins, walking to the middle of the room.

Bryce felt the familiar unease as he watched, partially expecting what was to happen.

"HellooooooOOOOOOOOOOO! YOU IN HERE? TEACHER! WHERE YOU AT, COACH? HUH?!" the sheep bellowed, cupping his hands around his muzzle, though his voice was already at a deafening volume inside the deserted gymnasium.

"Will you shut up?" Bryce winces, plugging his ears for a moment.

"What? You scared? Gonna run off now? Gonna join up with the other pussies?" Michael taunts, before going right back to yelling at the dark void around them.

Bryce shook his head, picking up a dodgeball from the cart. Cocking his arm back, he launched it at the sheep's back, smacking him on the ass instead. Michael whirled around with a malicious gaze, stomping over to the human. Glaring at him, he turned his attention to the cart of heavy, rubber dodgeballs. Hoisting one up, the sheep hurled one at Bryce's head. Seeing as the sheep telegraphed his move in the most obvious way possible, Bryce easily ducked under it. While he wasn't harmed, the ball slamming into the window of the door was another story. The glass unexpectedly shattered with the weak impact. Both of them turned to stare at the door, shards of glass still clinging to the diamond pattern of wire that was between the panes, the rest glistening on the ground below like a collection of ice shards.

"Look what you did!" Bryce barks, pushing the sheep.

"Me? Why the hell are you throwing shit at me?!" Michael retaliates, shoving him back.

"Cause you've been fucking around all night! Was this all just so you could get your fucking vape back?" Bryce accuses, picking up another ball.

"What, you thought I really wanted to spend my Halloween with your ass all night?" the sheep spits, balling up his fists.

Much like Mrs. Garcia, the two students would now know the sphincter clenching horror that a big cat's roar could create. The throaty, bassy hiss put an end to the two's bickering very fast. The natural acoustics of the roomy gymnasium made the roar seemingly appear from every angle, surrounding the two in the horrific noise. Diving for their flashlights, the both of them stood back to back, whipping their lights everywhere but at themselves. Of course, they saw nothing. Whether this was good or bad wasn't entirely clear.
Bryce swung his light up at the ceiling, his panicked squeals ceasing as he tilted his head curiously. A long cylindrical piece of HVAC ventilation went from one side of the gym to the other. A string of ribbon was tied through one of the grates, pushed by the air that now flowed. The rest were damaged from intentionally thrown footballs and whatever else, pieces of rubber from dodgeballs even sticking into the heavily damaged vent covers. As the roar died down, the quiet hiss of the conditioned air struggling to flow through the grate became apparent.

"Fuck me." Bryce said to himself, using his GoPro to zoom in on the damage.

His hunch was correct. The copious amounts of damage, not to mention the debris being stuck inside, allowed only a small portion of the air to freely flow. The sudden force from the school's powerful air conditioning being clicked on had enough force to even bulge parts of the ventilation shaft. As he shined his light, a fine mist of dust had been dislodged as well.

"What?" Michael pants, dodgeball still in hand as he looked around.

"It's the goddamn AC that scared her. No ghost. Fucking hell, that's all it is?" the human shook his head in disbelief.

Bryce started to laugh, feeling the first relief he's had since school that Friday.

"What the fuck." Michael growls through his teeth.

"What?"

"What the fuck is that." the sheep rumbles, stopping in his tracks.

Bryce follows the sheep's stare, tracing it to the double doors that led to the hallway. The one window was broken, of course. The other one, still intact. Neither of them could tell what stood behind it. What they did know was that it made their blood run cold. A lone, stationary shadow stood tall behind the door, watching them through the glass.

"It's a shadow." Bryce swallows, neither of them daring to shine their lights at it.

"What the fuck is that." Michael keeps repeating.

It didn't move. It just stood there. The two knew it wasn't just a shadow. Neither could tear their eyes away from the thing. The more they looked, the more they saw. Both could start to make out body parts of the shadowy humanoid. Its arms hung to the side, its body tall. Bryce could just make out the set of pointed ears atop its head. The figure's chest seemed to heave, the students discovering how it hunched forward, shoulders bobbing up and down, while the head remained still. They couldn't tell what it was, but they did know this.

It was mad.

Being the braver of the two, Bryce hooks his flashlight up, shining it at the figure. He prayed for the shadow to disappear at the presence of light, as a shadow should. It didn't. His light was lost, sucked into the black void, the absence of light. It consumed the beam from his flashlight with ease. To his absolute horror, his wide eyes discovered that the entity itself casted a shadow from the light.

It was solid.

The beam trembled in his hand, the bulb flickering, before falling dead. As Michael slowly started to lift his own, the figure suddenly darted away. It didn't run like a human or anything the two had seen before. It had no stride. No movements at all. The thing simply slid. Glided. Michael tried to follow with his light, falling behind as the thing shot down the hallway, catching a final glimpse of it as it crossed the second set of doors, before vanishing. For now.

Bryce and Michael stood, crippled with fear. Neither could explain what they had seen and neither could deny they had seen it. The human should have tried smacking his flashlight to try and correct the bulb, but couldn't bring himself the nerve to do anything. The flashlight instead slipped from his cold, clammy hands, the useless instrument clattering to the gym floor, rolling away.

"You saw that shit, right? Did you see that?" Michael trembles, keeping his light on the door where it was last witnessed.

"We have to leave. Right now." Bryce stammers.

"I ain't fuckin' moving! That....whatever the fuck it is! It's right out there!" Michael yells, unable to keep his hand straight.

"There's no other option." Bryce pants, somehow the calmer of the two.

"Fuck you! I ain't fucking going out there! You want to, you go right ahead!" Michael shakes his head.

Bryce was correct. Michael was partially correct. There was no other option and whatever that thing was, it was still out there. But that was only partially true for it was actually everywhere. The sheep feels something brush across his foot. He shines his flashlight down, forcing himself to look away from the door. He snaps his head down to see one of the jump ropes coiling itself around his ankle, moving on its own accord like a venomous serpent. Before he could open his mouth to speak, the rope yanked with a shocking force, taking the sheep right off of his feet, slamming to the floor.

The human moves to help his friend, his efforts to aid stopped as the door to the equipment room is thrown open, followed by an explosion of noise as it slammed into the wall, chipping the brick and paint. Even Michael stopped his struggle at the event, him and Bryce both turning towards the room. A single light bulb dangled from the ceiling in the room. Wrestling mats were rolled and tucked into the corners. Hockey sticks, bats, and lacrosse poles were messily cluttered on a shelf. The important thing inhabiting the room was the thing that had just introduced itself seconds ago. A shadow was thrown against the wall by the bulb without anything in front to cast it. The bulb grew brighter and brighter and brighter again. As the light glowed, the shadow became more and more solid, details of the mysterious, malevolent being becoming revealed. Bryce could make out the fur that covered its body, though the color still wasn't clear. Everything was simply black. Judging by the whiskers that flowed from the being's muzzle, he could assume it to be a feline of some sort. Its tail swished behind, much like the pull cord he had seen in the classroom. The limbs were thick with mass, muscular and toned. It created a low, deep rumbled growl, the darkness of its face fading as instead two silver orbs glowed where its eyes would sit. Turning its hand over, it flicked its fingers up with a hiss.

The end of the jump rope that constricted around the sheep's ankle suddenly whipped up, lashing him across the muzzle, cutting at his eyelid. Michael screamed and went back to wrestling with it, clawing his fingers at it. Bryce leapt to the sheep's side, crouching down to help free him, keeping his head up to stare at the being. The creature stayed still, watching their struggled with an unspoken amusement. Try as they may, the rope wouldn't budge from his ankle, his eyes watering as the rope instead sawed back and forth, digging into his fur, burning at his skin. Finally, Bryce just grabbed the sheep by his wrists, dragging him across the floor towards the door. The being seemed to allow this, but not without a final whip across the sheep's face, cause blood to flow from his bruised nostrils. The rope then slid off, reverting to its unpossessed state.

The two throw themselves at the doors, stumbling across the floor as they sprinted away. The only thing they wanted was to leave. For now, they'll settle on putting as much distance between them and that thing as possible.

"What the fuck is that shit!?" Michael cried, limping with every other step.

"What do you think?! It's that fucking teacher!" Bryce yells back, wishing he still had his flashlight.

"Oh, fuck off! That's just a story!" the sheep fires back, having dropped his flashlight in the gym.

"You showed me the newspaper article!" Bryce screams at the sheep.

"I fucking Photoshopped that shit in study hall!" he admits, not daring to look behind them.

"You goddamn piece of shit! You didn't even believe in any of this, did you?" Bryce growls.

"It's all just stories!" he wheezes, both of their heels squealing as they rounded a corner, running for their lives towards the door they had entered through.

The distance wasn't far, but felt like miles to their terrified minds. Michael had tears running down his cheeks, stinging at the cut left by the rope turned whip. As they turned down the new hallway, they both felt their hearts race as they saw the red "EXIT" sign. They feet pounded at the tiles, Bryce squeezing his eyes shut in fear as they neared the door. The distance was closed in seconds, Michael slamming his shoulder into the door, only to be bounced back, landing with a thump.

"Did you fucking lock it?!" Bryce hurls, grabbing the sheep to yank him back up.

"No!" he yells back, pulling out the screwdriver from his pocket.

He thrusts the blade between the door and frame, while wrenching the handle. It wasn't the first time he slipped a door open this way, though he never had some ethereal beast hunting them down.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!" the both of them yelled to themselves.

The handle snapped down and the door flew open. As his weight was against the door, Michael fell forward, stumbling down the steps as he felt the reassuring chill of the autumn night. Bryce was soon to follow, interrupted by the door slamming in his face.

"No, no, no!" Bryce cries, trying the handle, which now refuses to move at all.

He tries to look through the window at Michael, able to make out the sheep pulling his injured body back up, before a shadowy mist passes over the window, blocking it entirely. The human was now aware of a steady thumping coming from behind him. Bryce reluctantly turns himself around, lungs constricted with fear and a scream that couldn't come out. He looks down the empty hallway, seeing nothing. The thumps continued to come. Growing closer. Closer.

Bryce forces himself forward, trying the handles of the classroom doors closest, but to no avail. Looking back at the hallway, he sees something. No shadows this time. Instead, he sees a footprint. An actual one. No shoe. He makes out four thick toes with a clawed tip. A pawpad at the center. The footprints appeared with no rhyme or reason, simply appearing with a thud. They were the same size as the ones he discovered in the sawdust, belonging to the big footed beast. Each one came closer, even able to hear the sound of the being's foot peeling up from the tiled floor. Without warning, the walks turned into a full on sprint. He felt the hallway tremble with each step, the strides growing further and further apart as it charged. Charging right for him.

With each footprint came a sudden puff of dust from the floor, attesting to the weight and size of the shadow beast. Bryce at long last found himself opening his mouth, letting out a much needed scream of sheer horror as the thing slammed into him, checking him down the hallway, landing like a pile of dead weight on the floor, catching a flash of the silver eyes, before his head cracked on the tile, leaving him unconscious and to the will of the spirit.


The all consuming darkness engulfed the human. He felt nothing. Was he dead? He felt no pain, no thought, or emotion. His body felt weightless as if he was floating in the deepest depths of space. It felt as if he didn't exist. Stuck between time and space. He couldn't even be sure if he was in his body or simply a spirit adrift in the ethereal plains of the unknown as he crossed into the next life. A spark of light and life flashed in front of him, a beacon of hope inside this crippling void. His consciousness floated forward, reaching out in his limbless form to touch whatever existence that was now pulling him in. The deafening silence that rang in his ears was pushed aside in favor of a booming, remote voice that was neither distinctly male or female, an odd mixture of a feminine, honeyed tone and a dominant, masculine guttural growl that didn't just speak, but commanded.

"Wake up."

Bryce awoke with a gasp, pulling his body forward, eyes squinting with pain from the lump that swelled and ached at the back of his skull. How long had he been out? His hand clutched the back of his head, gingerly touching the egg sized knot with another hiss of pain. The other hand laid flat on the floor, curiously sweeping across the tile. Instead of the polished surface he knew, the human instead cleaved through a layer of dirt and dust, which clung to his sweaty flesh. Snapping his eyes open, he looked forward. Yes, this was the same hallway he was attacked in, but at the same time it wasn't. The lighting fixtures that hid inside the recesses of the ceiling were now squared, textured sheets of plastic, yellowed with cigarette smoke, fluorescent light tubes audibly buzzing behind. Unlike before, the hallway was well lit, though not with the sterile white lighting his school's LED lighting provided, but a yellow haze that should have been warm and inviting, but was instead dirty and repulsive.

The lockers were no longer a clean, dark blue, but now a dingy firetruck red that was chipping away, revealing the brown rust that corrupted and warped the metal. Some of the lockers were padlocked, while the bulk of them were thrown open, textbooks and papers spilling onto the floor, each piece coated in a fine layer of dust. Even through the dirt and debris, he could tell the tiles went from a speckled white to a nauseating shade of brown and green, alternating between each putrid color.

He shakily stood, swallowing nervously. He wiped his palm across his jeans, already dirty from having collapsed on the floor. As the dull pain in his body began to subside, he noticed that he began to feel not just hot, but also heavier. Growing further confused, the dazed human looked down at himself, no longer in his original clothing. His feet were placed inside of a white pair of Converse, the laces double knotted. Even more peculiar was the medical brace tightly secured to his ankle. Bryce reached down to try and tug off the constricting article, but found it impossible to so much as loosen the laces. With his arms forward, he was startled to see them contained inside of a smooth, bleached cowhide.

"What the fuck?" he said to himself, quickly removing the jacket that had suddenly appeared on him.

It was constructed of a sturdy, high quality cotton, which was dyed a rich navy blue. Duel pearly white stripes wrapped around the collar, the hem, and both cuffs. The school colors. Why the hell was he in a letterman jacket? The temperature of the building seemingly plummeted as he took off the garment, almost as if persuading him to keep it on, which he obliged. A plain white t-shirt was worn underneath with an additional, curious attachment. His GoPro from earlier was now fastened around his chest. Brass and copper fittings were screwed and welded together to form a crude fastening that would prove impossible to remove.

As his memories start to come back to him, he immediately turns on his heels to try the door. As he spun around, the door was nowhere to be seen. Desks of both the massive, wooden teacher variety and the miniscule, combination chair desks of the students were instead messily stacked in front, the wood chipped and splintered, rusted metal legs bent and even snapped off in some instances. Not quite yet deterred, Bryce grips one of the chair legs, giving it a sharp tug. It refused to budge. Giving it another go, he tried to remove one of them from the top of the pile, since there would be no weight to fight, other than gravity. To his surprise, he couldn't move it even a hair. Frantically, Bryce repeatedly pushed and pulled, desperate to so much as move it an inch to reassure himself that escape was at least feasible. After a minute of trying and an outcry of anger and frustration, he gave up with a whimper. Whatever had trapped him in this school was making it clear that he would now be playing by its own rules.

With nowhere else to go, he gave himself some reassuring thoughts, which was a monumentous challenge in itself, and pushed on. His sneakers slipped a few times on the dust and grime as he walked, stumbling over the books that weren't punted out of the way. As he approached the first classroom, he dared himself to look inside. Much like his actual high school, this corrupted one also had windowed doors to each room. Whatever he expected to see, whether it be some decomposing ghoul or empty classroom, was not what his eyes witnessed. An inky black form covered each window. He initially thought the rooms were dark inside or maybe a blind was pulled down. Instead, some morphing, twisting fog was all he could see, watching as it danced and swirled like the licking tips of a flame. It almost put him in a trance of sorts as he gazed at the hypnotic patterns that unfolded in front of him. It was by design that the dark mass enthralled the human, luring him into a vulnerable state, so when the massive mitt of a hand slapped against the glass, it was all that more heart pounding.

He screamed and jumped back nearly two feet away from the door, mouth agape in fear. The hand was one of feline origins. The gray fur seemed dense by the way it spread across the webbed glass, a dull pink pad squeaking as it shifts against the pane. The white clawed tips of each finger dug into the glass as the digits curled, slowly raking down to create a most painful screech that violated his ears.

"Fuck that." he muttered to himself, turning to run down the hallway.

As he fled from the apparition in an aimless sprint, he doubled back, sliding over the floor with a cloud of dust, once he saw a fire alarm. The red handle was stashed away behind a thin plate of glass. His palms slapped over his pockets, finding nothing useful. Picking up one of the textbooks from the ground, he tightly gripped the hardback and slammed the edge against the glass. The sound of jagged shards spilling to the floor did not delight his ears. The book bounced back from the glass with a hollow thud.

"Goddamn it!" Bryce yells, lifting his leg to repeatedly stomp against the protective glass, screaming in anger as it refused to break.

A sudden stab on pain in the ankle covered by the brace was his sign to stop. When he did, Bryce saw that he hadn't so much as smudged the glass that mockingly stayed intact. He walked away in a huff, continuing his trek down the hallway that was at least well lit. The classrooms he passed were veiled in the smoke, so he didn't bother to even jiggle any of the handles to explore any. With his luck, they'd all be locked. A cork bulletin board appeared on the wall as he rounded a corner. Bryce looked it over, spying a lunch menu, an announcement for a pep rally, and a hand written advertisement for babysitting services, some of the paper tabs already torn off. Nothing useful, until he found a yellow colored paper, the black text providing some curious information. It advertised the newly elected prom king and queen for this year's 1984 dance.

Why did that date send a shiver up his spine?

"Okay, this is really freaking me out now." Bryce grunts, walking away.

The human passed a trophy case that hadn't been in the school before, the dates of each award confirming the decade he was seemingly thrown into. What the fuck? Why him of all people? Shaking his head, he quickened his walking into a light jog, before reverting back to a walk once he felt the sting of pain back in his ankle. He should at least be nearing the office by now or so he thought. Turning the corner led to .... the exact same hallway?

No way. Bryce looked down, seeing his own footprints looking back up at him. How? He turned around, jumping in shock as he was now standing directly against a wall. The brick was marred with shoddy mortar application, which dried in long, cracked lines down the naturally red surface. When he turned once more, he now faced the administration offices. Daring to look once more, Bryce managed to stay put this time. He snapped his head side to side, having travelled to the other side of the school in the blink of an eye.
His breath quaking with fear, Bryce gripped the handle and pushed open the door, stepping into the lit office. Much like the rest of the school, it was in shambles. The stink of mothballs and some other off-putting odor of a source unknown stung his nostrils. The long reception desk sprawled from one end of the small room to the other, two aisles of filing cabinets behind, along with a door at either end. Ignoring the offices, Bryce turned to find a payphone installed to the wall. Diving a hand into his pockets, his fingers snatched a single dime. Was that there before when he checked his pockets?

Lifting the phone from the cradle, his thumbs smudging the black plastic, he inserted the dime into the slot, hearing it drop into an empty chamber, hearing the coin spin around, before finally falling flat. The polished nickel finish was quite faded and tarnished. The numbers were almost completely eroded away, but Bryce was very much capable of dialing without seeing them. His fingers stabbed into the nine, followed by double tapping the one.

He held his breath as he lifted the phone to his ear. The chirping tone of his call being connected seemed to drone on and on to the point where he considered slamming the phone back down, but couldn't just yet. A clock sat above the office, the face smashed, but the mechanism stubbornly refused to quit. He listened to the seconds tick by, turning into minute after minute. As he moved the phone away from his ear, he heard the tone suddenly interrupted, followed by a voice immediately after.

"911, what is your emergency?" a female voice answered.

"Hello? Hello! I need help!" Bryce nearly sobbed, hearing a voice besides his own for the first time since he arrived in this godforsaken place.

"Do you require EMS, firefighters, or the police?" the voice calmly replied with the growly tone of a former smoker.

"All!" he pleaded.

"What is the location of your emergency?"

His eyes glanced up at the bronze name plate of the payphone to confirm the location, which didn't match the name of his actual high school. Had the name changed since then?

"Shermer High School." he states, feeling his heart racing.

"At this time of night? Sir, do you realize that trespassing on school grounds is a Class 1 misdemeanor, punishable by up to a $1,000 fine and up to a year in prison?" the woman sighs.

"I don't care! Please, come and arrest me! Just hurry up!" Bryce shouts.

"No need to raise your voice, sir. What is your name?"

"Bryce!"

"Okay, Bryce. Why do you have that brace on your ankle?"

His blood ran cold at the question.

"...."

"Are you there, Bryce?"

"Y-yes."

"Answer the question."

"Uh, I don't know why."

"Maybe it's because you fucked with the wrong teacher." the voice rattled.

The phone batted against the side of his head as his hand violently trembled.

"I didn't do anything wrong." Bryce swallows, eyes welling up.

"You came here. You came here and now you'll atone for what he did."

"For what who did?" Bryce sniffles, gulping.

"Sir? Are you there?" the voice perked up, free of any malicious tone.

"Wha-? Yes. Yes, I'm still here." he quivered.

"Good. Help has just arrived."

Each door to the offices slammed open with enough force to shatter the fogged windows. The copper hinges snapped as the doors continued forward, colliding with the reception desk. The heavy piece of furniture croaked as it was pushed across the floor. Drawers of each filing cabinet was violently yanked open, the manila folders and files erupting into the air as a gust of wind carried them away. Bryce dropped the phone and threw himself through the door, landing back into the hallway, too terrified to even scream. The phone dangled by its black cord, bumping against the wallpaper.

"You have a good night, Bryce."


His foot now dragged beside him as he limped. He wiped his nose across the sleeve of the letterman jacket, adding to the snail trail of snot that already coated the cowhide. Bryce quietly cried, walking through the school. Nearly all the lights had been extinguished, leaving a single trail still twinkling above. The lights carried down some hallways, but not others. He would have taken advantage of his GoPro's night vision, but the crafty entity had accounted for that. The human tracked the path underneath the lights, agreeing to the unspoken rules he was now committed to follow.

He followed down the hallway which had stretched on and on for six or so minutes by his own estimate. At this point, he resigned himself to walking on, until his legs finally gave out, leaving himself to the mercy of whatever entity that haunted him. As he took his next step, his shoe splashed in a puddle. Looking down, the tiled floor was now submerged under two inches of water. He took a look behind himself, seeing the water extending as far as he had walked. Pushing forward, the water soaked into his shoes, before leaking into his socks as well. It almost felt as if the water grew deeper. His steps grew more strenuous as the water weighed down his feet, but he trudged through.

His ears perked to a sound behind him. Bryce stopped midstride, immediately hearing someone else do the same, their foot landing with a quiet splish. His nose whistled as he breathed, standing still, him and the being daring one another to take another step. The game of chicken lasted mere moments, before Bryce lost.

The water was violently tread upon, a pair of large feet kicking up waves as they took off after him. Screaming in a panic, Bryce ran. It was impossible to judge how close the thing was to catching him. Their footsteps joined as one to his ears, a duet of splashing. At some point, he felt the waves from behind crashing into his heels, signaling the rapid approach of the spirit. His eyes shut, not wanting to see the maw of this thing as it tore him to shreds when it would inevitably catch him.
The hairs on the back of his neck rose at the hot breath of the thing gusting over them. Just when it made Bryce aware of just how hopeless the situation was, it left. It took him a minute to realize he was now running alone once again. His eyes opened in time to see the set of double doors, before he collided into them. Bursting through to the other side, he stumbled forward, landing hard on the floor.
The room was well lit, his eyes taking a second to adjust. Once they did, he blinked and sat up. Bryce looked at his surroundings, immediately recognizing the room as the auxiliary gym. The pool in the middle of the room was a dead giveaway.

Oh shit.

His heart sank upon seeing the swimming pool. Nervously, he pulled himself back up, tiptoeing over toward the body of water. His teeth chattered at the sound of someone swimming. Well, not exactly swimming. Wildly thrashing as if someone's life depended on it, would be a more accurate way to put it. He bit his lower lip, building up the nerve to step to the pool's edge.
As the pool fell into sight, he saw that the water was still, not so much as a ripple polluting the surface. The human looked down, seeing nothing out of place. Black paint striped down the sides to signal the changes in depth. It was the first clean room he'd seen so far. He could even smell the chlorine of the pristine pool. His eyes then became fixated on the corner of the pool. On the flawless white paint, a small dot appeared. A red speck. Blinking his eyes, he watched as it grew into a wide blotch. The crimson stain only continued to grow, reaching the size of a head. The texture changed as well, going from a simple stain to the unmistakable appearance of coagulated blood. Looking even closer, a few tufts of fur and hair clung to the sticky gore. It then sank lower, dripping down to the pool. Bryce panted as the clear water rapidly grew a sickening maroon, gradually getting darker and darker, until light didn't dare to penetrate.

"Witness my beginning."

He hadn't time to react as the sack was placed over his head, obscuring his vision. A sudden kick from a large foot stung his backside. It was a forceful blow. He was able to feel each individual toe, covered in fur, even able to tell they were warm from the brief contact.
The human flopped into the pool, diving deep into the murky chasm. His arms flailed, legs kicking, but to no results. He was an accomplished swimmer, but was unable to even tread the water. The sack quickly filled with water, giving him little time to suck in a breath to fill his lungs. His body fell deeper, sinking regardless of how much he fought. Despite how far he fell, his feet would never touch the bottom of the pool. Bryce was suspended inside the watery crypt, eyes stinging with the foul liquid. All the attempts at swimming did him and his oxygen no good. His lungs burned as the precious oxygen was expelled. Bryce said a prayer and never stopped kicking his legs, even trying to rip off the sack that clung to his face.

He could no longer rebuff his body's urge to take in a breath, even if it knew as well as he did that there was no air to take in. His lips parted, involuntarily sucking in a mouthful of the vomit inducing water, a second spasm of his body causing it to be sucked up by his empty lungs. Once it began, the cycle was impossible to break. His body kept hiccupping, sending waves of the gore laden water into his body. Bryce's head grew light, no longer fighting. His eyes glassed over. His body stopped breathing. His limbs floated uselessly in the murky liquid as he drowned.

His eyelids fluttered. The next time they opened, he found himself laying back in the hallway. Bryce refused to move. He took a tentative breath. Once the oxygen entered his lungs, the panicking human sucked breath after breath, hyperventilating. He didn't question why he was here, so long as he was alive. Bryce laid sprawled on his back, crying in either fear or happiness. As he recovered, he propped himself up on his elbows, seeing that his clothes were completely dry, the only moisture coming from the tears which fell down his cheeks. His tastebuds no longer stung with the metallic tang of the bloody water. Just another game he had to play.

Standing back up once more, he saw that he was placed in front of an office. He glanced at the name plate.

ROOM 238: MS. HOLT

This was it. This had to be the final hurdle, no pun intended. He was forced to endure all of her abuse, experience her own demise. What was left?

His fingers touched the metal doorknob, twisting it and feeling it unlock. Bryce pushed the door open and stepped inside, not sure as to what he would find. Surprisingly, the office was well maintained. The only notable smell was one of stale coffee. The overhead lights buzzed their quiet song. The office was sparse, but well furnished. He stepped around the chair placed in front of the woman's desk, so he could examine the corkboard on the wall to his left. Ribbons of all kind were tacked to the board. Cross country, hockey, gymnastics, you name it. Newspaper clippings hung by thumbtacks, each article headlining one of her accomplishments. Winning champions, amazing plays, carrying her school to the champions.

He then stepped to the shelf behind her desk, gently pushing her office chair to the side. Trophies ranging from small to almost too big to be up on the shelf were lined up. Her nameplates had not even a speck of dust clinging to their well polished surface. She was certainly a gifted athlete. One that was snuffed out in her prime, he had to think. Behind him, came a skittering noise.
Fearing it to be a big cat sharpening her claws, Bryce spun around. He was relieved to find not a malevolent feline, but a pencil and notebook. The relief wasn't felt for long when he saw how the pencil stroked its tip along the margins of the notebook. Again, he fell for what he felt to be a safe room. Not this time. He leapt for the door, only to find it missing. Another mind fuck. He slapped his palms over brick, doing nothing but smudging the white painted surface.

Okay, so maybe it was time to check out the desk then.

Bryce turned back towards her desk, watching the pencil as it moved. The graphite scribbled the same message on every line, filling one completely, before it dropped down to the next.

UNDER

DESK

UNDER

DESK

"Oh, fuck." he said to himself.

The pencil then dropped back to the desk. Slowly, it rolled down towards the edge, falling to the tiled floor as it rolled under the desk. Heeding her message, the human gulped. Trembling, he got to his knees, averting his gaze as his head disappeared under the hefty piece of furniture. All he found were dust bunnies and small trenches from the office chair having been moved back and forth so many times. Bryce then gets down on his knees, unable to see towards the back of the roomy underside of the desk, as a shadow was cast across the backside. A bit odd, considering how well lit the office was. He took a cautious motion forward, his knees feeling the chilly temperature of the dusty tile. Extending out his arm, he expected his palm to touch the stained finish of the walnut desk, but found that his hand instead had disappeared into the shadow. Taking in a breath, he crawled forward more, a bit awkwardly doing so with one hand as the other still tried to touch the back, but, again, failed to do so. With another lurch, Bryce found his body completely underneath the piece of furniture.

He brushed his fingertips over the sides of the desk to assure himself that at least the desk itself wasn't a figment of his imagination or another one of the entity's tricks. Bryce then heard a noise behind him. The wheels of her office chair ground into the floor as it was slowly maneuvered into view. A shiver went up his spine as it not only stopped in front of the desk, but turned towards him as well. He stared at the gray polyester stretched over the seat and backing, watching as it suddenly sank down, the chair creaking as well. Not a sound came from his mouth as he witnessed something taking a seat in front of him. His eyes strained to make sense of what was happening. A painful blow was delivered to his chest, sending the human reeling backwards, well past where the desk itself should have been physically capable of existing. He felt the four toes of the woman colliding with his sternum, the clawed ends stabbing into the tender skin of his throat, her heel cracking against his topmost rib.

Bryce instantly began to crawl away in a panic. His palms clapped on the floor, clouding his sight with a fine dust, his knees kicking up even more. He didn't stop. The human crawled deeper and deeper into the lightless cavern. The medical brace around his ankle kept banging against the sides of the desk, which seemed to stretch infinitely. His head of hair no longer touched the wood that was once above. He had no time to waste in testing to see just how far the ceiling could stretch, far too focused in getting away from the woman. Deep down, he knew that there could be no real escape. He was simply crawling for dear life inside of another one of her traps. Running through endless corridors was starting to wear very thin too on his patience. Perhaps she was tiring him out, so that when she truly attacked, there'd be no energy left to fight back.

A pinhole of light was a welcome gift to his eyes. The small, almost indiscernible light was too faint to illuminate anything just yet. All he knew was that it was a sign of an end. Maybe not the end of his plight, but at least the end of this desk. He hoped, at least. His chest heaved in exhaustion as he carried himself forward, ignoring the cramps in his abdomen and back. Just a bit longer and he could get out of this claustrophobic nightmare. With a second wind at the promise the light provided, Bryce flew down the abyss. The light grew in size and volume, burning with an undetermined power as the all consuming darkness made it difficult to judge.

Following the only path forward for a minute longer, Bryce smiled as the yawning chasm began to fade. His head thumped against the ceiling of this tunnel, painful, but another reminder that this insufferable void was coming to an end. The end of the passage opened as he crawled, but to what? If he was lucky, outside, but luck would no longer be on his side. His eyes blinked as he immediately recognized the exact same office. He froze, before cautiously advancing. The closer he grew, the more he could make out. The chair was no longer in front of the desk nor was the being that cast him into this horror.

As he contemplated making his escape from the tunnel, he started to notice the office wasn't all that it seemed. Much like when he first awoken inside the school, the office was in shambles. Curious once more, Bryce carefully broke away from the desk. The human's vertebrae popped in relief once he finally stood back up. He took in the now corrupted office space. The floor had a fine layer of dander and dust as did the rest of the room. The corkboard that once so proudly boasted the coach's athletic and personal achievements now laid broken at his feet. Only one corner of it stayed attached to the wall, the board itself tilted sideways as it sat on the ground. Her ribbons were frayed and singed, photos ripped and torn, their frames dismantled, the glass broken. The cabinet to his right fared no better. Its doors battered and barely managing to hang onto its hinges. Her bronze trophies were vandalized, her name hastily defiled by means of a chisel. Looking around more, he found the walls fell victim of a water leak. The paint tried to stay affixed to the wall, the leak creating water stains all over, even bubbling the latex paint in some areas, while having broken through in others. Bryce turned to look back at the desk, the beautiful walnut now fractured. The notebook that had been previously written on was now caked in black mold. Portions of the pages were devoured through by silverfish. They were also wrinkled with moisture, the words previously scribbled inside now faded, the blotches of ink spreading over the paper like a spider's web.

Once he finished looking around, he made a beeline for the door, knowing deep down that it was going to be locked. To no one's surprise, the handle refused to yield under his aggressive jiggles. His mind wandered back to when the sheep used his screwdriver to shim the door open before. These doors should operate by a similar mechanism. He doubled back to search for anything suitable to use. He pulled open each drawer of her desk, discovering nothing but more of her faded, vandalized memories in each one.

With nothing of value at her desk, he turned back to the cabinet, pulling the single door that wasn't broken. Inside, he discovered a stack of manila envelopes. Bryce pushed them aside, seeking the area behind them, praying for maybe a thin, metal ruler or something else like that. Anything that could be turned into a shim. In his useless search, his elbow tipped over the stack of folders, which slapped against the floor, spilling across the tiles. The human made a move to pick them up, pausing at the information filled in across the tan envelopes.

"No..."

Bryce flipped each one of them over in alarm, finding that every single one had his full name boldly imprinted across the naked envelopes, the handwriting growing more and more warped and frantic. In each margin was neatly attached a label containing date. As he inspected each one in horror, he found they stretched back to his middle school years, while the most recent was from merely a week ago. Whenever he picked them up, he felt a fair bit of heft inside.

Gathering up an armful, he messily dropped them across her desk. Daring to open one up, he undid the string keeping themselves sealed. Tipping a few of them over at the same time, he spilled their contents. His eyes went wide with dread. Screenshots from his phones accusingly faced up at him, each one taken directly from his camera roll. Some were blurry, having been taken in haste, while others were much more clear. He could detect the changes in his cell phones by the varying image quality, upgrading from a shitty flip phone to his newer smartphones. Regardless, there were two things that every image had in common. Every one of them was taken in secret and they were all candid shots of feet or paws. It was not the trip down memory lane that it should have been.

He recognized a fair bit of the girls just by their feet alone. The red polished nails belonging to a redhead that he had lusted over during his study hall period. Black, glossy fur of the powerful paws of a panther from his geometry class. The pudgy, brown paws of a bear he had a crush on. Each pair of feet and paws either sat inside of their sandals and flip flops or quickly taken during the brief moments the women had slipped them out of their shoes during their in school boredom. Some were inside of a classroom, others in the cafeteria, some rare ones taken on the school bus. The teachers weren't safe either from his lecherous activities. A portion of the sneakily taken photos depicted notably more mature feet and paws. He could make out the wrinkles soles of Mrs. Garcia among them. Her naturally darker complexion notably lighter under her feet. The teacher's heels sat on top of her ballet flats, unknowingly presenting her older feet towards Bryce, toes slightly curled to flash just a hint of her blue nail polish. He could recall the memory of himself taking the photo as well. It was near impossible to discreetly remove his phone from his pocket in such haste, but he did. It was towards the end of class and he had sat his backpack on the desk. His hands sat inside of it. With a pocket unzipped, he could steadily hold his phone, capturing not just photos, but a video of her feet too. He had to take a bathroom break afterwards, just so he could immediately masturbate to the footage.

An anthro wolf was featured too. Her grey digits, capped with black claws, shiny with a translucent nail polish, were zoomed into it. The ancient studies teacher had her large paws exposed inside of a pair of leathery strapped sandals. The dyed black strips accented her lighter coat, the plush fur poking out from between each one, her toes just barely extending over the front. Clearly, a new size was needed. He could still recall hearing how they clicked ever so slightly as she walked. Though he should have been ashamed of the pictures, which he admittedly was, there was no denying the lust that began to course through his veins, feeling something other than fear for a change.
Bryce dumped out a few more envelopes, not sure if he was doing it because he was curious if they contained anything different or if it was because of his growing erection. Had he been more aware of his surroundings, he may have noticed the lynx materializing in the office chair. At first, it was just her clothes. The black track pants made their appearance first. The sleek, reflective polyester shined under the office lights, slightly bulging at the thighs by her muscular limbs. It shined stronger in key areas, sweaty as if she had finished one of her classes. A white t-shirt hung from the spirit's chest, her breasts pronounced against the tight cotton. Her bosom wasn't massively so, but still a tad larger than average. The matching black windbreaker stayed unzipped as it flickered into reality. Her collar was pulled up. A flash of her socks was visible, before her shoes overtook them. The bright blue was complimented with a trio of yellow stripes coming down over the sides of her running shoes, tracing out the tongue as well.

"You don't learn." Holt rumbles.

He should have felt the chill from his side as the spirit became real, manifesting beside him as he distracted himself at her desk. The human almost had his heart seized at the spectacle of the clothing floating in the air as the woman sat in her chair. He backpedaled until his back was firmly against the wall. His jaw tightened as the rest of the feline spawned. She came through like an electric blue haze, barely managing to outline herself at first. His knees quaked as more and more of her features became apparent. Her flowing hair was contained in a ponytail, pointed ears flicking with anger. A long ghost of a tail snapped behind her, curling itself like a cobra waiting to strike. Her fingers popped in one by one, curling into a fist. The blue shape of the lynx swirled like smoke, blue fumes twisting off of her like the end of a burning cigarette.

"W-what are you?" he stammered.

"What are you?" she snarls.

Bryce gulped at the colored mass.

"I'll tell you what you are. A sniveling, putrid excuse for a man. A boy who betrays the decency of the women around him. You use them as nothing more than a visual aid for you to tug your shriveled cock at." the fiery lynx derides.

There was no rebuttal for him to give.

"A sad, mentally ill fuck up with a demented foot lust. How can you smile at your teachers, your friends, your classmates, look them in the eye, knowing that you've taken pictures of them, looking at them at night, practically licking your screen, while you weakly spit your cum, your own filth across your body and sheets." Ms. Holt hisses.

"I-I-I'm s-s-s-sorry....." he gurgles.

"No. Not yet, you aren't." the lynx stares, the silver orbs of her eyes visibly flashing with an anger previously unwitnessed by man.

Bryce only flinched as the spirit itself blinked, disappearing from the chair, only to appear right in front of his face. Her hand slapped down on top of his skull, an easy task as she was considerably taller. Clenching down an a fistful of his blonde hair, the lynx picks him up off of his feet, which dangle above the floor. As he opens his mouth to scream in pain as he's nearly scalped, the feline hurls him at her desk. He lands on his side, banging off the edge of the desk, only to fall down in front of it. Gasping with pain, the lynx flashes again in front of him, back in her chair.

"I know every sick fantasy you ever dreamed of. Every filthy daydream you ever had in class. I am the eyes and ears of this school. You abused these people like toys," she growls, pointing a finger at the stack of pictures, "Now, you're my toy."

The tread of her shoe is seen for only an instant, before she sends her leg forward, kicking at the side of his face. She plants her shoe against his cheek, pinning his head down to the ground, grinding her foot down on him. While he's planted down, she grabs the GoPro still attached to the rigging on his chest. With a terrifying ease, the lynx rips it from the makeshift rig, sending bolts and jagged pieces of copper shrapnel flying as it was effortlessly destroyed. Bryce felt his shoulder blades nearly break as it was torn off of him. Ms. Holt then sets the camera on the floor, facing him.

"Now, it's your turn to be on camera. Take off my shoe."

The feline didn't make this task any easier. As his hands reached up to blindly grab at her laces, the other foot would kick them away. She kicked at his hands, sweeping her foot all over his face to escape his fingers, pushing down harder and harder, threatening to fracture his cheek bone. The pressure only stopped when his fingers managed to find the blue laces, yanking them loose. Afterwards, her shoe was able to be popped off without a fuss. The hot, damp surface of her socked foot lands back on his face. Before he could take a breath, her toes pinched his nostrils shut. The large pawpad was placed over his lips, which were briefly agape, firmly covering his mouth. She then allowed her body to materialize. Her silver fur began to pop out from the blue spectre, cascading down her figure. Bryce watched the woman's face finally come into form, black speckles dotting her muzzle, whiskers growing out of the silver fur. Though she now was as real as he was, her eyes stayed their unnatural, ethereal shape.

It didn't take long for him to realize what she was doing. In seconds she had his airflow completely restricted. He forced out the thought of how ungodly arousing this was, having a sweaty socked foot pressed against his mouth and nose, though he'd be damned if he wasn't dying for a sniff. In fact, he tried and tried again. Not for just his perverted curiosity, but because his lungs were now entirely empty. Her muzzle twisted into a sinister sneer as she watched him begin to struggle. His throat buzzed with protest, his body squirming under, but unable to go anywhere. Thrashing his head proved impossible, her toes far too strong to counter. His eyes rolled back as he begged her to stop, doing so only mentally as he didn't have oxygen to spare to try and speak. Ms. Holt wouldn't give in that easily.

She snatched up his arms, pinning his wrists side by side, pulling his arm so hard, he thought his shoulder was surely dislocated. Tears threatened to escape his eyes. The pain was excruciating. The only bright side was that he'd probably pass out from no air, before he'd feel anything else.

"Don't you dare fucking breathe through your mouth." the woman demands.

To his surprise, she tilted her foot, freeing her pawpad from his lips. Bryce did as told, regardless of how much his brain screamed at him not to. Another game to her. She would only permit him to breathe if it was through her toes. Just as his vision grew hazy, the feline released her toes. Immediately, the human sucked in a breath, filling his lungs to their brim. His vision stayed in a haze as the sudden aroma of the coach's potent, sweaty sock covered toes penetrated his nostrils. Bryce let out an unintended moan, doing so quite loudly too. He couldn't help it. The cotton was slick with sweat, covering his nose with her humid toes. He greedily sniffed, the woman's toes tensing as if contemplating cutting his air off again. Obviously, they did just that.

Bryce managed a final sniff, before the lynx closed his nostrils. He savored her powerful scent, one that sent his cock into a spasm. Despite the never ending, filthy fantasies he had dreamed of, the human hadn't actually gotten an opportunity in his life to indulge himself in a fresh, fragrant pair of female feet. Now, it was trial by fire. Her claws dug into his wrists, the burning orbs of her eyes glaring at him.

"Sniff, you pathetic cunt." she rumbles.

Her toes set his nose free again, letting his nostrils flare as they eagerly accepted more of her stink. With her foot out of the way, the human was free to quietly moan, despite his best attempts not to. The socked paw moved back an inch, before darting forward again, grinding over the entirety of his face, forcing him to sniff every part of her foot. He didn't fight, letting his nose be used in such a way, continuously snorting at every opportunity. The coach then grabbed the elastic of her sock, beginning to peel it away as she dropped his arms. Bryce stayed on his back, not daring to move as she stripped off her sock. Inch after succulent inch of her fur became visible, her fur a tad matted. Her foot was held sideways, giving him a partial view of her sole and the top of her foot. Unlike the rest of her foot, the sole was a snowy white. Her pawpad became visible, the same pink tone of the hand he saw clawing at the window earlier. Tufts of her white fur poked out from around the pink pad, a few strands clinging to the pawpad alone. Pulling the sock completely off, her toes were last to be shown off. Each of the thick, four toes curled and stretched. The dangerous looking claws flashed in the light, the fur of her toes appearing slick with sweat.

Ms. Holt took the sock and threw it at Bryce's lap. Without questioning anything, he grabbed the ball up sock. Her could see four round blotches of sweat from where her toes had sat, even noting that they were stained from previous wear too. He jammed his nose into those stains, forcing his palm flat against his nose, smothering himself with the sullied cotton. The noises of his hungry sniffs were immediate. Goddamn, he loved it. There was no possible way for her to despise him anymore, so why hold back? The sock slut groaned to himself, frantically snuffling at those sexy toe stains, even pecking at the sock, swiping his tongue over one of the marks.

Big mistake.

To his shock, the sock seemingly came to life. The fuzzy serpent thrust itself into his mouth, gagging him. Bryce dove his fingers into his mouth to try and free it. The sock then wormed its way further into the back of his mouth any time he tried to remove it, silently threatening to effectively plug his gullet entirely. The lynx sat and watched with a sadistic glee at his panicked breathes. Hoping to please her, he extended his arms out at his sides to show he wouldn't touch it again. This didn't work. The toe of the sock tickled at his uvula. In a desperate action, Bryce cupped his hands together, before thrusting himself down in front of her, groveling at her feet. Now, this did work.

Her nude foot fell down on the back of his head as the shoed paw lifted against his face. Stuck between the two, she compressed his head like a vice, leading to some groans, pained ones this time, which were muffled by the sock.

"Take off my shoe."

His fingers quickly found her laces, pulling at them, while her feet still squeezed, his nose smooshed flat and nearly breaking. Now untied, she moved her foot from the back of his head as the other lifted higher, effectively kicking at his face. She then removed the shoe, dropping it down on the floor.

"Hide your ugly face in it."

The cavernous opening of her freshly worn shoe allowed for easy concealment of his face. Now up close, he could take in all the detail of her running shoe. The rubber toe cap was repeatedly scuffed during her strides, the colored mesh fabric stained with grass and faintly so with dirt and dust. Before shoving his face inside, he spied the wear of the interior. Her massive paw had left a dark, sweat stained footprint stomped inside the once yellow insole. Bryce then shoved his face inside, lips brushing over the still warm insole. His nose explored, sniffing at the smelly musk that could only be birthed from years of hot, strenuous exercise. Clearly, she did a lot of track. Each long stride she took was just another stomp of her sweaty feet down inside. The porous material had become impregnated with the humid stink. His blushed cheeks touched the walls of her shoe, insulating his face inside the fogged up footwear. Bryce traced out her footprint with the tip of his nose, shocked at how big her paws were. Had he not been gagged, he would have relished in dragging his tongue all over it. Again, his nose sought out where those gorgeous toes had sat, feeling each worn in groove left behind. He then kept his nose still, resting comfortable on her toeprints, slowly sucking in one delicious sniff after sniff.

Her heel then struck him with a vicious kick at the back of his head, leaving him seeing stars for a moment. Clearly, he was having too much fun. The lynx jumped to her feet, sending her chair wheeling back to slam into the brick wall. She then stood on his head, balancing on one foot as she went all in, giving him no time to adjust to the full weight of the towering lynx. He cried out in pain, angled in such a way that his forehead took the full brunt of her weight. The sock wiggled inside of his mouth as he cried out, attempting to coil itself around his tongue to silence him fully.

"Having fun now?" Ms. Holt grinned, sending her other foot down to deliver a kick to his neck.

He groaned out again, thankful that his neck hadn't been snapped with the ferocity of her blow. With the woman standing directly on his head, his nose was held against the toebed of her shoe, ensuring he could do nothing but whine and sniff her intoxicating musk.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it? Being trapped beneath a big pair of paws? Sniffing some shoes?" she sneers, stepping on the center of his back to distribute some of her weight.

With her weight now divided between his skull and spine, he was now torn between what hurt more. It now grew harder for him to take a breath, constricting his ribcage under her mass. Her toes curled, stabbing into his scalp, grabbing tufts of his hair with her dexterous digits, lifting her leg to pull at his hair. The human struggled under her feet, only letting himself squirm, instead of flailing his limbs. He'd learned that anything that could resemble an aggressive act would only end in disaster. After forcing him only a thimble of oxygen every minute for an agonizing amount of time, she jumped off of him, only she didn't land on the floor. First, she leapt into the air, landing on his calves, immediately sending a crippling muscle spasm throughout. Bryce cried out, gagging at the now dry sock constricting his tongue.

"Alright, freak. Now, you're on the clock." she states, looking up at the still ticking clock on the wall.

Her glowing eyes studied the clock, waiting for the second hand to tick towards a new minute.

"You have thirty seconds to lick my foot. Please me, and I'll hurt you. Disappoint me, and I'll hurt you bad." Holt warns in a chilled voice.

The second hand ticked and tocked, crossing over to a new minute.

"Go."

Bryce pushed his battered body up on all fours, quickly kicked back down by her foot.

"Stay on your fucking belly, pig!" she snarls.

Eyes watering, he feebly reached up to grasp at her ankle.

"Touch me again and you'll lose that arm." she hisses, curling her toes to punt the back of his head with the knuckles of her foot.

Dazed, the human shook his head with a wince of pain. He lifted his head up at the paw that shifts forward, held out in front of his face. Disappointing her was the last thing he wanted to do. The sock went limp in his mouth, allowing him to spit it out. He quickly went to work, lustfully stroking the underside of her feline paw with his tongue. With only thirty seconds given, he didn't even have time to moan as he worshiped her. The human's tongue rapidly stroked over her leathery pad, licking at the glistening sweat. His lips sucked at the tuft of fur poking up from her heel, tongue grooming her silver, speckled fur. Snapping his head back, he moved to enjoy her long toes. Again, his tongue moved quick and effectively, darting into the furred gaps between each toe, lewdly licking, furiously stabbing his tongue forth. Going even further, he crammed her biggest toe into his mouth, greedily suckling at her furry digit. This time, he spared a tick of the clock for a moan of lust. His tastebud ground into the padded underside of her toe, ignoring how her claw twitched in his mouth, grazing the back of his throat. Oh god, how much he wanted to suck these toes. Bryce then moved to the next, engulfing the thick digit into his maw. His tongue escaped his lips, hungrily stroking at the ball of her foot as he salivated over her arousingly sweaty toe.

The clock sprang from the wall, landing on the floor with a crash as his time expired. His reward was a mortifying kick to his undefended kidney, followed by a flurry of punts to his ribs. Bryce rolled onto his back in a fetal position, bracing himself for more abuse. Instead, Ms. Holt lifted her foot, examining the layer of saliva now sticking to her fur. She then swung herself to the side and sat on top of her desk, peeling the other sock off her foot to leave them both bare.

"Imagine what would have happened if you disappointed me."

Bryce stayed limp on the ground, catching his breath.

"Get up now or I'll really hurt you."

Nodding, he pulled himself off the ground, getting on his knees. The letterman jacket was thick, so he wasn't gravely injured from the kicks. Small victories.

"Your ribs hurt my foot. Kiss it and say sorry." she huffs, swinging a leg over her knee, keeping her unloved paw suspended in the air.

Gulping, Bryce didn't dare reach out to touch her foot. Shuffling forward, he cautiously inched towards her foot, trembling in fear of another kick. He puckered his lips, planting a quick kiss on the top of her foot.

"I'm sorry."

"My toes hurt."

Lowering his head, he provided the furry tops of her first toe with a kiss.

"I'm sorry."

"I said, 'toes', not one. Kiss every one and say you're sorry."

He managed to kiss the first toe once more, before she pushed his face away with her foot.

"No, I want you to look me in the eyes and say it. Say it to each toe." she grins.

Following her instructions, the nervous human looked up at the deceased feline. Gazing into her silver, flowing, swirling orbs of eyes made his skin crawl at first.

"I'm sorry." he repeats, planting a firm kiss over the front of her toe.

Bryce kept his eyes locked with the feline's, who watched his every move like the predator she was. Once again, he apologetically kissed at her toe, moving to the next this time.

"I'm sorry."

Mirroring his previous actions, he gave the third digit a kiss of the same force and duration.

"I'm sorry."

The more he stared up at her eyes, the more they appeared oddly enticing. Dark, menacing, but full of energy and a tangible hostility. Bryce then delivered the last kiss.

"I'm sorry......sorry for what he did." he gulped, moving away.

The lynx's tail flicked behind her, sending a cloud of dust off the tiled floor. She seemed to ponder the human's words, though he hadn't the faintest hope that it would amount to anything. Bryce maintained the eye contact, not breaking it until she allowed him to do so.

"Suck on them."

He didn't need to be told twice. The human took her first toe into his mouth, looking into her burning eyes as he passionately suckled on the warm digit. He moved firmly and dutifully. His head bobbed as he firmly sucked, suppressing a moan as he stared into her eyes. Leaving the first one coated in his slick saliva, Bryce moved to the next toe. Again, he slipped it into his mouth, giving her toepad an unusual attempt at a massage as his tongue pressed up against it, before moving in a rhythmic fashion, grinding his tastebuds into the sweaty toe. Her watchful gaze never strayed from his eyes, which grew intense with his arousal. Not only was worshiping the feline's toes getting him hard, staring up into her eyes as she permitted him to do so had him drooling pre. Keeping his eyes up, he approached the third toe slightly different. He took just her toepad into his mouth, sealing his lips around it as he applied a wet suction, poking the tip of his tongue against it for good measure. Ms. Holt stared at him with indifference. He thrusts the toe fully into his mouth after treating her pad to a good worship. Bryce groaned quietly, pushing his tongue against the base of her toe to slobber over, while he thrust his head back and forth, his lips sawing against the sides of her digit. Still staring up at the ethereal goddess, he moved in for the fourth and final toe. As he blindly took this one in, he immediately discovered something wrong. No fur of any kind. Her unreadable gaze didn't move, still boring into his soul. Bryce hesitated, by gave this toe the same treatment. His tongue shifted along the cold, lifeless, and unusually smooth digit. He felt his skin goosebump and quiver in disgust as the toe audibly clacked against his molars. This time, it was the lynx who pulled back, freeing her toe for him to see. Bryce watched as she lifted her foot into his view, stomach churning with repulsion as he stared not at a sexy, furred digit, but instead, a dead, bleached, calcified bone.

Ms. Holt gave a frightening chuckle as the color drained from his face. He then watched as her entire paw began to change, reverting back to the electric blue, smoking existence, before disappearing completely. She then shoved her foot forward, proving that it was still indeed there.

"Lick it." her gravelly voice commanded.

She watched his face become dented with her foot as the invisible appendage was planted against him, allowing him to never once stop staring up at her. Bryce rolled his tongue around in his mouth to remoisten it, having dried from the previous incident that would very possibly haunt his dreams. Starting down low, he holds his tongue against her heel, before slowly pulling the wet muscle up. The human delivered one long, continuous lick. He went up from her heel, pausing at the ball of her foot, to lash and stroke at the feline's pawpad, not sucking at it, without her verbal permission. After the detour at her pad, he continued upwards, giving a slow, aggressive lick between the fragrant gaps of each set of toes. The only pauses he took were to reposition his tongue, rewetting it and delivering a barrage of licks across each section of her foot. Her heel was combed by his tastebuds, feeling how her sole very slightly wrinkled as it scrunched, the only feedback he was ever given. The human stroked over her arch, lapping his tongue forward and back, properly grooming the now invisible foot. Returning back to her toes, he swept his tongue side to side along the gap between her pad and toes, even feeling her digit curl and tap at his nose. Finished with the sole, Bryce felt it necessary to worship the top of her foot next. Again, he licked over the dense coat of fur, feeling his tongue forming trenches as it bore through the fluffy fur. Of course, he licked over each toe, because they were easily the sexiest part of the foot. With the way he worshiped her, it began to feel mutual, even consensual and loving with the manner in which he pleased her.

And just like that, her foot lowered. Bryce stayed silent as the mute feline began to fade back to her neon blue haze, still watching him. Gradually, she grew transparent, before disappearing entirely, leaving just her clothes sitting in the chair. He stared at her chest, watching the shirt gently expand and contract with each and every breath. Without a word, her outfit just dropped. The limp, lifeless clothes fell just as easily as they hung in the air. Her pants fell draped over the seat of her chair, shirt and jacket crumpling atop the backing of the chair. Shocked, Bryce stayed on the floor, waiting for her next instructions. As the minutes ticked away, though not by the broken clock, the human questioned if this was the end. Was she letting him leave?

Bryce stood back up, briefly eyeing her discarded shoes and socks, before making a move towards the door. The sound of naked feet slapping against the tile was terrifying. The human collided with an invisible being, but not just one. He was thrown around as if standing in a spectral moshpit, being elbowed, punched, kneed and kicked. He couldn't guess how many of them there were, but the knowledge she could clone herself was frightening. He tried to fight back, pushing off of them, but to no avail. He felt their chilled touch from every direction. To his utter shock, Bryce remembered that she was fully nude, noting how he could feel her naked breasts slamming into him. At one point, he swear that the back of his hand had brushed across a stiff, swollen clitoris. He even felt the heat of her damp arousal against his flesh.

The attack started strong and showed no signs of stopping. An open palm slapped against his cheek, then another across the other as his head whipped around. The handle to the door was unexpectedly shoved down, the door opening to the hallway. A familiar pair of paws began kicking at his rear, while palms and the swiping claws of the felines threw him out of the office. His fight or flight instinct kicked into overdrive. Knowing that he couldn't touch them, he was left with one option. He sprinted down the hallways in an aimless direction, hearing the naked paws slapping over the tile as the pack began to chase him down. Once again, Bryce found himself being chased through the school. He leapt over abandoned desks that were strewn across the school, seemingly existing just to trip him up. The classrooms began to mirror themselves, the hallway continuing on and on. Each door was closed, that familiar black mist over the windows. His shoes kicked through the littered hall, as did the pack of lynx behind. As he passed a classroom, he discovered for the first time an opened door. Doubling back, Bryce dove into the room, slamming the door shut, before grabbing a desk to barricade himself in.

Satisfied, turned around to catch his breath. The classroom was spotless. Every desk and chair was in place, the floor mopped and polished, a lone figure sitting on the teacher's desk. Bryce jumped at the appearance of someone else, someone he knew.

"Heya, Bryce." the canine greeted.

The posh Yorkie sat on the surface of the desk, legs lazily swinging in the air.

"Daphne?" he questioned.

"Uh, duh!" the dog scoffed.

He rubbed at the cramp that stung at his side, while he looked her over. Her long, black coat shined with the expensive conditioner that she lathered with every night. She ran her fingers through her glossy hair, flicking it out of her eyes as it returned to fall down her back. A lightly colored plaid top clung to her thin frame, the sleeves rolled back to expose her delicate forearms. After all, it was a bit stuffy in the school. Her dark blue jeans were so tight that he had to wonder if she wore a size small, really showing off the wonderfully round ass of hers. His eyes naturally landed down on her feet as well. Her small paws were slipped inside of a pair of checkered canvas flats, the red and browns mixing well with her natural fur colors. Seeing the nude tops of her feet, he could only assume she wore them without socks.

"How did you get here?" he asks.

"I dunno. I had to stay after school, got lost, got tired of walking, and then I found this classroom. What about you?" the dog hums, heels thumping the front of the desk.

"Uh...long story." he sighs, rubbing the back of his head.

The Yorkie tapped her claws against a manila envelope sitting on the desk beside her.

"Hey! So, uh, quick question. What the fuck is this?" Daphne asks, pulling out one of many photos from the packet.

This particular one featured the canine during lunch. She was in her usual position, one leg resting on her knee. While she was distracted eating a prepackaged meal of sushi, Bryce had stolen a few photographs of her feet. They dangled a pair of flashy black sandals, a golden emblem of the designer catching the light. Her toes were tilted forward with a gentle curl, keeping her sandals from slipping down too far. After all, if they fell, they could get scuffed. Yeah, he remembered it well.

"Uh, I can explain..." Bryce swallowed, feeling his palms growing clammy.

"Explain what? That you're a fucking perv! That you were fondling yourself the entire time I was eating lunch?" the Yorkie accuses, her normally chipper, higher pitched voice taking a stark turn, growing into a low, hoarse growl, a tone that he was now familiar with very well.

"W-what?" he stutters, noticing how her eyes had begun to glow.

"That you jerked off and came on these photos so much that you needed a new screen protector? That you planned to break into the girl's locker room, just so you could try and steal my socks?" Daphne continued, her voice now completely taking shape of the lynx's.

Bryce glanced to the right of her, seeing that her reflection in the window was not her own, but one belonging to the gym teacher.

"Well, now you got your chance. Show me what you wanted to do. I want to see what a true degenerate is capable of. Now!" the Yorkie literally barks.

That was Ms. Holt's order. She saw the abuse he could take, the submissive, demeaning violence he was willing to accept along the way. Yes, he had impressed with his actions and enduring the psychological endeavor that was the feline's school of horror. Now, she wanted something else. She wanted him to break. Embrace the true deviancy that he had kept so secret and contained within himself. And goddamn was he going to.

The human nearly leapt at the dog, diving to her feet. He grabbed her shoe and ripped it off, slamming his nose inside so damn hard it was a wonder he hadn't knocked himself out. He sniffed with greed, loudly sucking in the noticeably different musky aroma the canine provided.

"Fuck, you're desperate!" Daphne sneered.

Yes, yes he was. His fingers tightly gripped her ankle, snapping his head to look up at her smug face, taunting him as he stuck out his tongue, making her watch as it dragged across the sweat spotted insole of her freshly worn flat.

"Fuck yes." Bryce hissed back, rapidly smearing his tongue over every inch of her smelly flat.

His tongue explored, grinding down into the velvet interior, licking at each groove her dainty paw had created. The human stuffed his face with the fragrant pair of flats that he'd spent so many days ogling, just knowing that she would eventually slip free one of her paws for him to take a candid snapshot of. They stank heavenly. Wearing a snug fitting pair of flats completely barefoot was sure to create a small furnace. She had worn them regardless of temperature. From the cool autumn days to the hot, humid remnants of summer time, so he knew for a fact that she had done some serious work with these in the sweltering heat. With a final sniff, he tossed the flat aside, insole shiny with saliva.

"What now, freak?"

"I'm going to suck the fuck out of these toes." he hisses back.

Bryce jumped to his feet, taking her ankles up with him. The Yorkie falls on her back, mockingly laughing at him as he pushed both soles to his face. His nose wiggled between each toe. Daphne gave some intentionally weak kicks to his face, thumping at his nose with her damp soles. Bryce moaned, loud and proud as he inhaled between her toes, tongue lazily flopped against the ball of her foot. The slut took his time sniffing each of her digits, before doing exactly as promised. Since her feet were even smaller than his own, he crammed them in two at a time, selfishly suckling them with glee, his tongue sawing between.

With his free hand, he undid his pants, dropping them to the ground, where they were then kicked free. His erection tented his underwear, before it was swiftly removed. The human's uncut erection bulged with need and desire, streams of his pre having already drooled down his shaft. He lowered one of her feet, slapping his exposed glans over her toes, moaning as he sucked the others.

"You better not cum, asshole." Daphne growls.

"Shut up, bitch." Bryce snaps dismissively.

Apparently, he forgot who he was really talking to.

"No, you listen to me, you little bitch! If any of your fucked up seed gets dropped before I say so, I promise you will have intimate knowledge of what your left nut tastes like, do you fucking hear me!?" Daphne screams, her voice an amalgamation of her own and the lynx's.

The canine panted with rage, before letting him continue. Bryce was surprised to see that his erection hadn't only stayed, but grew somehow harder during her yelling.

"I won't." he nods, pushing the tip of his cock between her grabby toes, eyes rolling back as he moaned.

He then pinned her paw down on the desk with his hand, casually thrusting between the smooth desk and her warm, furry sole. Her toes danced in his mouth, batting at his tongue as he chuckled, before sucking them some more. Bryce didn't stop worshiping her toes, until all four of them were utterly matted with his saliva. Still not stopping, he dropped her foot to focus on her as she laid there, allowing his behavior. He stared at her as he thrust, smearing her and the desk with copious amounts of pre.

"Those shoes cost more than your life." she snarls with disgust as she picked one of them up to notice the sheen of his saliva inside.

He ignored her complaints and taunts, mouth hanging open in a frozen state of arousal as he quietly rumbled to himself as he slowly ground his cock under her foot. The chilled desk and hot, sweaty canine paw formed a unique sensation around his manhood that he had no words to describe, besides amazing. Daphne lazily curled her toes, dabbing their padded undersides along the swelling veins of his shaft, pushing down harder with her heel to try and pin his uncut tip against the desk. The few times she succeeded, Bryce freed himself with a firm tug back, along with a sudden moan as he did so. He raked his fingers over her paw, pushing his thumb between her toes, playing with the damp digits, giving each one a firm pinch between his fingertips. They were short and stubby, but adorable nonetheless. He could have spilled his seed right then and there and died a happy man. Of course, he didn't do so, only able to imagine what literal hell the lynx would put him back through. Damn, the thought was so fucking hot to him though. Listening to the angry squeals of the yapping purebred as she tried to bat away the hot, thick pulses of seed being flung at her. Yeah, you think I ruined your shoes now? How much would you bitch if I made you hold them for me, while I turn them into my personal cum dumpster?

As if reading his thoughts, Daphne grabbed her flat and delivered a sharp, concise slap across his cheek. Bryce glared at the dog, snatching her free foot to hoist it back into the air, right against his face. Opening his mouth, he dragged his incisors across her pawpad, scratching at it, before biting down on the firm muscle. Hissing back, she jerked her foot free and attempted to kick him on the nose. Bryce dodged to the side, slamming her leg back down on the table as he lurched over her, not for one moment daring to stop defiling that paw with his engorged cock.

"Fucker." she spat at him.

"I bet you fucking love this too." Bryce sneered, freeing his cock, giving it a few firm strokes to send a weak spurt of pre across the tanned fur of her foot.

"What? Degrading a weirdo, like you? Not even if you paid me." Daphne whined, wiping her sullied fur over his chest.

"Nah, you ain't even charging me now. Doing it for free, huh, slut?" Bryce cackled, getting out some much needed aggression, after the abuse he suffered.

He felt a tinge of shame, though. Daphne wasn't the worst girl in school, but was far from polite. A spoiled brat who loved to spread rumors, gossip, and belittle those who fell far from her status quo. The kind of girl who would immediately cry to mommy and daddy the second someone retaliated, playing victim as always. Maybe if she had the guidance and proper discipline of a stern teacher, she would have turned out better. Bryce still couldn't tell if this was exactly how she'd react or if she was still at least partially corrupted by the gym teacher. If she wasn't, then fuck. She had quite the mouth on her.

"Oh, so you're a big man now, huh? Taking advantage of a girl half your size. Christ, you're sad." she shook her head.

"Put a sock in it." he snapped, now wishing he still had the lynx's sock to emphasize his command.

"Yeah, get it all out now, asshole. Something tells you won't be like this for your friend.

"What the hell are you rambling on about now?" he muttered, cleaning his slick erection over her furred toes.

Rather than using her words, Daphne just looked up and stared at him with a twisted, knowing smirk on her face.

A sudden bright flash of light stunned the human who stumbled back, rubbing his eyes. His back then bumped into something big and hairy. He turned around, seeing the chubby brown bear he'd gone to school with for as long as he could remember.

"Peyton?" he gasps.

"Why?" the bear frowns.

"Why what?" he cringes.

She produces a folder from behind her back, letting its incriminating contents spill over the floor. Like most bears, she was big and chubby, something he honestly loved. Bryce had an on and off crush on her for years. She was always so shy and bashful, having a hidden crush on him as well.

"Why would you do something like this?" Peyton yelled.

"I'm sorry! I like you, okay?" Bryce retaliates.

He couldn't quit staring at her. A pair of denim shorts were able to contain her belly. The tattered ends of the durable cotton came to an end at the middle of her thick thighs. She wasn't much of a dresser, just wearing a shirt with the school colors on it, the same ones that Ms. Holt had on her running shoes.

Feeling bad, the human pulled the girl in for a hug. He snugly held her, before his breath was caught in his throat. Peyton wrapped her arms around him, lifting him up for a literal bear hug. He felt his vertebrae erupt like a string of firecrackers.

"S-stop..."

The bear dropped him down on the floor as she walked over to sit down at one of the desks.

"Is this what you wanted?" she stares, crossing her ankles behind her.

She wore the same brown flip flops all year, kryptonite to poor Bryce. He picked up the photo, seeing it was taken of her from behind. Yes, it was during history class. She had very animated paws. She constantly slipped her sandals off, scrunching her soles, curling her toes, which made the flip flops slap against her chubby heel. The bear sat, reading a textbook that hadn't been there before.

"Go ahead then." Peyton shrugged with indifference, mirroring the same scenario from the picture.

Bryce did feel guilty. He thought back on the laughs they shared, spending countless study halls together, inviting her to sit with him at lunch when no one else would. The bear wasn't looked down upon by any, aside from maybe Daphne. It was just that she was far too shy and just didn't really fit in by no real fault of her own. He wrestled with himself about asking her out or just confessing how he felt to her. She was adorable. So many times had he fought the desire to thrust his face into her fur, enjoying the warm, natural scent, before peppering her squared muzzle with kisses. Peyton was just one big teddy bear that he wanted to cuddle with. Maybe if he survived this night, he would have the courage to ask her out for real. He knew none of this was real, hopefully, but Bryce still felt remorse.

That being said, c'mon, he couldn't waste this opportunity. The human laid down on the floor beside her. At first, he just stared at her feet. With a grip around his erection, the human lazily masturbated just to their sight alone. Watching, her toes slowly flexed as she read, relaxing them would make her flip flops sag, bearing more of her soles. The fur at her soles was a much lighter brown, her pads a dark black and very slightly rough looking. He was in love with them. They were so fucking big and broad. There wasn't much feminine about them or really anything noteworthy, yet they were his favorite. Probably because they belonged to such a sweet girl.

He stayed quiet, dreamily watching the beautiful, chubby bear toes. It was a much needed break for him. Bryce rubbed over the top of her foot, caressing it lovingly, fondling each fat toe of hers. They were every bit as soft and warm as they looked. His fingernail skittered over her dry toepad, watching with her muzzle discreetly upturn in amusement, her toes flexing to bat his finger away. Bryce wasn't so easily fought off. He dipped his finger between them, giving another tickle, digging deep enough to scrape over the top portion of her pawpad too. Again, Peyton's foot squirmed, the bear giving a quiet giggle. Smiling up at her, Bryce leaned in, planting a single kiss on her foot.

"You're beautiful. I should have said that years ago." Bryce admits, affectionately brushing his cheek over her fur.

"Why didn't you?" Peyton asks, her voice not one of anger, but of genuine curiosity and a hint of sadness.

"I don't know. Because I'm stupid?" Bryce honestly states, having no real answer.

"Sometimes. You're a bit odd sometimes too." she innocently teases with another delightful giggle.

"Like right now?" he chuckles, giving another wet smooch to her foot.

"Mhm."

"Sorry. I think I just need to get this out of my system. Atonement and all that too." he sighs, resting his head on her paw.

"It's okay. I don't mind this, really. I feel we haven't talked to each other in a while." she adds.

"I'll change that. I promise." Bryce nods, applying another kiss.

"You know, you can kiss me somewhere else." Peyton states, the flesh under her cheeks going hot.

Smirking, Bryce got back up to his knees, leaning at her side. Wrapping one arm around her waist, he pulls her tightly against him, the other hand reaching up to cup her chin, lifting it. The bear gasped in excitement, immediately silenced as Bryce closed the short gap between them, sealing his lips around her muzzle for a firm, loving kiss. Peyton whimpered, melting at his touch. His hand left her chin, running through her fur, so he could stroke her cheek. His tongue prodded at her lips, asking for permission to enter. Granting it, Peyton parted her lips, allowing his tongue to enter and mingle with her own. Neither of them had much if any experience, but what they lacked in it, they made up for in passion and love. The two softly purred at each other, tongues flicking, dancing with one another. His hand squeezed her hip, fingers dipping under her shirt, raking them through her gorgeous fur. For a moment, Bryce didn't remember where he was. Not the possessed Yorkie, the beatings, the haunted school, or even the maniacal, spiteful lynx. All that existed was him and Peyton.

The bear then froze under his lips, no longer reacting to anything he did. Peyton didn't even move or breathe. He then felt the sharp claws of the feline dig into his neck.

"I suggest you get on with it, unless you'd rather I take over her. You're here for one thing, foot fucker, and it sure as hell isn't romance." Ms. Holt growls in his ear.

After she released him, Peyton was brought back, now gently working her fingers through Bryce's hair. The human pulled back, reluctantly breaking the kiss.

"God, I wanted that." he smiled, giving a final kiss on her round snout.

"Me too." the bear blushed, batting her eyes at him.

"You're too cute." Bryce chuckles as he gets back down to the floor.

Duty calls.

Bryce took hold of one of her flip flops, sliding it off of her paw. Her sole immediately scrunched, wrinkling the fur with its newfound freedom. Lifting it to his eyes, he examined it, groaning at first sight. Her fat feet had formed a perfect footprint inside. The brown was worn to a sharp black shade wherever her foot had touched. He tilted it in the light, observing the deep, dark pits left by her toes. He lowered her sandal, pushing his nose into her toeprints for a long, deep sniff, stroking even harder as he did so. Bryce moaned loudly, slowing his strokes so he wouldn't cum. He turned his head, staring at the feet that could do so much damage to a simple pair of flip flops as he sniffed. His tongue dragged over her sweat stained toeprints, leaving a trail of saliva, which darkened them further. He gave the entire footprint a good worship, licking, kissing, and sniffing every smelly inch.

"How long have you worn these?" he asks.

"All day. I've been wearing them since last school year."

Bryce gave a muffled rumble of lust, looking up to meet her gaze as she curiously glanced down at him. She watched him swap sandals, staring into her eyes as he lowered it onto his nose, taking in another greedy, drawn out sniff of the potently fragrant area her toes had ground into for years. Peyton tensed up at the odd sight, growing even more jittery at the dirty act of Bryce openly dragging his tongue over the damp toeprints, doing so with gusto as if he was proud of the perverted act. In fact, he was.

"You really love my feet, don't you?" Peyton quietly pants.

"No, I love you. I just happen to love your huge paws too." Bryce corrects.

Setting her flip flops aside, he cupped the top of her foot, gently guiding it backwards. With her sole facing up, he buried his nose into her toes, sucking in her spicy, musky aroma with lust. God, they were far smellier than Daphne's. Bryce didn't move for a few minutes, just shutting his eyes as he breathed in her potent, smelly scent.

Keeping her foot in place, Bryce began to lick her toes, each of the fat, pudgy digit receiving one hell of a tongue lashing. As he licked, Peyton quietly giggled to herself, growing louder as he began to suck them. Each one was given a truly shameless sucking. Bryce took his sweet time, surrounding her toes with his lips, bobbing his head to fellate them with a wonderfully wet noise. Unable to help himself, Bryce would jam his nose into her smelly digits, before sucking them afterward. He even nibbled at her pads, making her squirm a bunch. The rougher pads were softened by his frantic licking, not to mention him grinding his glans over them, making the toe slut moan her name. She continued to watch him, amused with his love of her beautifully fat paws. The room was filled with the wet noises of his licks and sucks, along with his foreskin being repeatedly shifted over his tip.

"Does that feel good?" she asks, curiously squeezing at his tip with her toes.

He answered by means of moaning her name. Peyton laughed and kept teasing his cock. The oversized toes clumsily grabbed at his member, the inexperienced nature of her fondling only aroused him more, knowing he was the first cock those feet had ever touched. Her pad pushed down hard on his shaft as she soon abandoned groping him. She shoved her foot forward and back, listening to her lover's groans as she pleasured him. The slightly abrasive touch of her pads tickled his cock, the overly aroused erection needing such a rough touch. Bryce watched as his stiff member was hidden by her big bear foot as it constantly shifted back and forth. Peyton gave a quick giggle as she felt a sudden wad of pre being coaxed from his cock with only more to follow. The human laid on his back, hands balled into fists, head lifted off the ground as he praised her performance by repeatedly calling her name in rapid, breathy gasps. It was truly heaven.

Alarm bells rang in his head the instant that the warm, inviting paws were replaced by the alarming touch of pointed metal across his shaft. Wincing and sucking in a breath, Bryce looked up, seeing that Peyton was nowhere to be found. Sitting in her place was a fiery looking jaguar. He only spotted the folder for a moment, before it was slapped down on his face, spilling out its incriminating contents across the floor.

"What the fuck!" the girl shouts, pushing the metal spikes of her cleats down even harder.

Oh, how he had fucked up. He didn't bother to look at the photographs. He knew who she was. Mandy. The ace starter for the school's softball team and unofficial team captain. She was a fiercely competitive player and had just recently took the team to the state finals, were they regrettably lost. Was that the real source of her anger? Nah, not even close. Compared to the rest of the girls captured on digital film, her folder was relatively meager. Maybe only a dozen or so pictures. Perhaps it was due to habit that she almost exclusively wore closed toed footwear. One would think that for how often her paws were contained inside of the snugly laced cleats and knee high socks, that she would spring for something much less restrictive in her off time, but no. There were fleetingly rare moments when she showed up to school wearing athletic slides, which weren't particularly the type of sandal that really caught Bryce's attention, but the sight of her elusive toes was a welcome one. Obviously, he dared to capture some candid shots of her paws. Mandy was a good head taller than Bryce, so her feet were comparably large. The tan, nearly yellow fur was dotted with black rosettes. The color of her fur grew into a dull white, but only at her toes. It was cute. Almost like she was wearing a pair of novelty socks or something. Each white toe was capped with a black claw, much like the other anthros he'd encountered.

For Mandy, it wasn't the pictures of herself wearing sandals that made her blood boil, but the other set. During an exceptionally painful bought of plantar fasciitis, the jaguar was required to wear an elastic brace around her ankle. Aside from the band wrapped around the middle of her foot and ankle, her left paw was entirely naked. Her slide sandals kept the majority of her toes hidden, but this brace allowed every white colored digit to be seen in full and Bryce was loving it. These photos were of Mandy propping her semi nude foot up in the air, resting it atop of her backpack as she ate her lunch, oblivious to the perverted human eye fucking her feet.

"I-"

"Shut the fuck up!" Mandy snapped, tugging her foot back half an inch, enough to leave a series of reddened creases down Bryce's shaft with her intimidating spikes.

Nodding, Bryce stayed silent, only whimpering as he pictured what her cleats could be capable of.

"You like my feet, asshole?" she hissed, lifting her other foot, shoving it forward to thump Bryce in the chest with her spiked cleat.

Okay, now that might have drawn blood.

"Yes! Yes, I do!" Bryce frantically nodded, feeling his shirt clinging to his chest, thankfully with sweat, rather than his own blood.

"Too bad, cause you're not going to get them." the feline sneered, bringing both of her feet back to drop them back on the ground, her spikes clacking against the tile.

Mandy was still in her softball uniform. At home, the team wore a deep burgundy colored jersey, highlighted with a steely gray piping and pinstripes. The white of her uniform pants were partly stained, most noticeable down her right pant leg where her hands would rest. Between pitches, she'd slap her palm against her thigh to clean off any dirt and rosin that clung to her fur. Both pant legs were rolled up to her knee, bearing her knee high socks, matching the color of her softball jersey. Down at her feet, each was hidden inside a tightly laced pair of black cleats, the color muting most of the dirt that was kicked up across the edges. Metal spikes stuck out across the heels and the ball of her foot, the arch bare of any. By the looks of the far darker colored areas of her uniform where sweat had accumulated, Mandy was fresh out of a game.

"Get up."

The human jumped to his feet, eager to be away from those spikes. Mandy reached down to her side, pulling off one of her cleat, which she then dropped on her desk.

"Just played a double header, so these fuckers are ripe." she taunts, though that was going to have the opposite effect on someone like Bryce.

Of course, he had to take a look inside of them. For the first time, the insole was already colored black, so no visible footprint to be seen at first. Tilting the cleat slightly, he could see a reflective sheen of fresh sweat inside, making his already trembling, also recently scratched, manhood twitch.

"What now?" he asks with a shiver, pushing his hand inside her shoe.

He gave a soft whine as he felt the incredible heat radiating from inside, considerably humid as well. Setting his fingers down, he rumbled to himself as he traced out the outline of her foot, pushing further inside to feel the wonderfully deep impressions formed by her sweat jaguar toes.

"Now, I'm going to sit back and watch you huff those, like the pathetic dog you are." she sneers, leaning back in her desk.

Not wanting to let her down, he made sure to live up to that name calling. The depraved human squatted down, lurching his body forward, so he could properly cram his face inside her shoe. Goddamn, how good it was. Judging from scent alone, she must have played a hell of a game. Bryce emphatically snorted up the jaguar's magnificent stench from inside the muggy cleat. His tongue fell from his mouth, obscenely dragging it across the damp interior as his nostrils widened with each selfish sniff. With her shoes being smaller than the dog's or lynx's, Bryce wasn't left with much wiggle room for his nose and tongue to explore. Not to be easily discouraged, he settled with lapping his tongue over her heelprint, while his nose ground into the broad crater stamped into the foam cushioned insole.
Mandy made a face at the shameless behavior. Was she really shocked that he would do this without any protest, but doing so instead with gusto? Actually, yeah, a bit. Sneaking pictures was one thing, but he was definitely backing up his voyeuristic behavior with this brazen display.

"I'm licking these too, just in case you were wondering." Bryce states, wishing she could see how his tongue so lovingly stroked her sweaty insole the way Peyton had.

"Did I ask?" Mandy spits.

The human lifted himself back off the ground, wanting the jaguar to see the erection he was sporting. He took her cleat up with him, of course. He wouldn't allow himself to be denied her pent up musk for even a second.

"Gross fucker."

Bryce only grinned inside her cleat, now stroking his cock in front of her to get an even bigger rise out of her. The jaguar immediately slapped his hand away, swiping at it with her clawed fingers as a punishment.

"Ow!"

"Shut it." Mandy growled, climbing out of her desk.

The jaguar then reached down to free her other cleat, which was also placed up on the desk where the first had been. Bryce couldn't help but stare at the sweaty footprints that were briefly left on the tile as her moist, socked paws stepped behind him.

"Now to make sure you don't get a chance to see my naked feet again." Mandy says to both herself and Bryce.

Using her natural feline balance, she stands on one leg, while unraveling the long sock off of her calf and paw, freeing her sweat foot. She then drapes the sock over his face from behind, before firmly knotting it. The broad piece of sullied cotton effortlessly covered his eyes as well as his nose, making sure all he could breathe in was her dank aroma. Mandy noted how Bryce's breathing immediately grew heavier, unable to see his eyes shutting in pleasure as he took in lungfuls of her musky stink. Stealing the shoe from his hand, the feline sat on top of her desk, slipping her lone socked foot back inside her cleat, leaving one foot naked. Those naked toes drummed across the floor as she sunk in her seat with a smug knowledge that the human would be deprived of the sight. If he thought she was going to use her paws on him, he was wrong.

"Alright, let's see how much more of this I can take. Fuck my cleat." the jaguar snapped.

Due to the small top of the desk, Mandy strategically sat on top of it, leaving just the opening of her cleat exposed. Blindly, the human stumbled forward, laying his hands down on what he thought was the desk. Instead, he felt the smooth texture of her uniform pants on his palms. Bryce gulped as Mandy glared at him.

"Better watch those hands, asshole."

He carefully moved his fingertips lower, letting out a thankful breath as he touched the desk instead this time. Inching forward, he felt the warm exterior of her cleat. He moved to stuff it with his cock, before nervously pausing.

"Uh, you want me to fuck it?"

"Did I stutter!?" she barked.

"Okay! Okay, uh...."

Bryce shuffled forward, the intended position he was forced in not being lost on him. The human moved between her legs, his erection brushing over her groin. Expecting a slap, Bryce was unable to see the heated expression on her face.

"Do it. Fuck it." she simmered, refusing to actually touch his cock with her hands to guide him inside.

He gripped his shaft as the thumb of his other hand poked into her shoe. The blindfolded human could then accurately stuff his cock inside her smoldering cleat, sharply gasping as he did so. Mandy gave an aroused huff in return, feeling his cock as it gradually filled her shoe. Bryce bit his tongue as he began to pant, already bucking his hips as he was, somewhat, forced to defile her smelly cleat. His hips moved quicker, rocking the desk as she sat. Mandy wiggled her rear down over the shoe, grinding the top down against his thrusting erection.

"There you go. Fuck it good." the jaguar quietly pants, bucking her hips in time with his own.

Together, Bryce was met with the gratifying touch of her footprint marred, sweat soaked insole cushioning and massaging his cock as the mesh fabric of the upper half roughly caressed him instead. The yellow irises of the predator stared into the fragrant sock turned blindfold, attempting to glare into his eyes, which was obviously impossible. Her hands grabbed at his hips, guiding him into a rougher, faster stroke. She carefully tilted herself forward, gritting her teeth as she moved her cunt against his driving cock, almost moaning out herself. Mandy stayed silent as she felt her panties growing hot and damp with her own arousal, almost ashamed of how this was turning her own.

"Feel good? Hmm? Bet you'd want to fill me with your cum." Mandy grunts, listening to how Bryce groaned and heaved as his trapped cock was dominated by the sweaty cleat.

"You mean your shoe, right?" he clarifies.

"Uh, right. My shoe." Mandy quickly corrects, ignoring the crimson blush on her cheeks.

Her arms found their way behind his waist, pulling him snugly against her as he fucked. A dull thumping was heard from his uncut tip slamming into the toe of her shoe, adding to his bliss as he bellowed with a need to release. A request which was swiftly denied.
The sudden laugh of Ms. Holt pulled Bryce back to reality, looking up to see a dissipating puff of fog where the jaguar had just sat. He then realized the smell of smoke singing his nostrils. Bryce spun around, seeing Ms. Holt sitting back on the teacher's desk. In her hand, she held one of the manila envelopes, flames rapidly consuming it.

"Three down." she grins.

Bryce then looked in horror beside her.

"This many to go." the feline snickers, a tower of photos and envelopes stacked to her side.


The human lay naked on his back, wincing as the air in the classroom licked over his permanent erection, the flesh raw and reddened. He felt his tongue was soon to fall off. Bryce was dehydrated, rapidly losing energy from hours of worship. The only thing keeping him alive was the sight of the folders going up in flames, along with his own sins.

"Only one left." the lynx smirks, dropping the folder down on his face.

Whether it be from her own manipulation of this world or his own bad luck, the rough edge of the envelope created a thin paper cut down his cheek. At least it was the smallest wound of the day. His chest heaved with each breath, eyes fluttering with a need to sleep. His cock screamed with a desire to ejaculate. His balls felt like they went into a vice when the lynx promised him that he would have to redo every single folder if he orgasmed before she allowed it. He had to listen to each one of them berate him, humiliate him, yell at him. Most of the time, it was done in their natural state, exactly how one would react to him had they discovered his secret. Other times, the lynx took over, cranking up the abuse whenever she was bored.

His hand dove into the envelope, pulling free the final picture.

"Oh. Fuck." Bryce gasped as the last face was unveiled.

"Watch your language, Mr. Martin. I won't allow that in my class." the accented voice spoke.

"Sorry, Mrs. Garcia." he gulped, pushing himself up.

The latina sat behind her desk, grading papers as usual. Suddenly, Bryce felt much more embarrassed about being fully nude. She looked up and noticed his state of dress, looking back down at her papers with an amused blush.

"I'm sure you know why you're here, I take it?" the woman spoke, a photograph in hand.

"Yeah. Trust me, I'll never do it again." he sighs, crumpling up the photo she passed to him.

"Well, then I expect to see an upswing in your grades." she chuckled, capping her pen, which she dropped into one of her desk drawers.

Bryce studied her beauty. She wore a flowing dress. The traditional garb was decorated with fake gemstones that studded the hem of her dress, using three different colored fabric to make the colors of her home country's flag. Her feet were slipped into a pair of open toed flats, bearing her nude, painted digits for him.

"Guess I'll get right to it then." he awkwardly states.

Mrs. Garcia then shifts her chair backwards, lifting her legs to drop them up on the desk.

"Get started then." she nods, using a more dominant tone.

"My pleasure." he smirks, slipping off her flat.

She tilted her foot back, showing him her naturally wrinkled sole, curling her toes to flash the deep crimson she had painted her toes. She looked up with amusement as Bryce pushed his face into her shoe, hearing him sniffing.

"God, you're beautiful." he sighs, immediately going back to masturbating.

"You're very silly." she comments, watching as he tilts himself forward, showing off his tongue as it licked over the worn in footprint of her flat.

He then upped the ante by managing to stuff his erection through the toehole of her shoe, rutting it in front of her with a hiss.

"Oh, are you going to cum now?" she taunts, hearing that faint hint of the lynx coming through.

"Only when you tell me to." he promises.

The last women. The last person he betrayed with his filthy images. After this, he was done for good. It wouldn't be easy quitting cold turkey, so he would have to make this his grand finale.

Ditching her shoes, Bryce sat his chin down on the desk, exploring every wrinkle of her sole with his nose, breathing in her mature scent, licking between each crease. The teacher laughed and wrinkled her feet more, only making Bryce that much more aroused. Hungrily, he lapped at her feet, his tongue pushing so goddamn hard that he watched her flesh briefly turn a lighter shade. He sucked at areas of her foot, sealing his lips around the ball, pulling back to free it with a wet slurp. Bryce chittered his teeth across her arch, oozing pre from his cock as he listened to her ticklish cackles. He then held her toes, staring into her hazel eyes as he gently parted each digit, before flicking his tongue across the humid gaps. Mrs. Garcia giggled and squirmed at his dutiful worship, his tongue weaving between each toe, before greedily sucking on them. She played along, pinching at the wet muscle whenever he engulfed more than one toe.

"Mmm, you gonna fuck my feet too?" she rumbles, again mirroring the lynx.

"I've never heard anything so fucking beautiful in all my life." Bryce pants, climbing the desk to kneel down on it.

He shows off his cock, frantically stroking it for the mature teacher. He brushes his tip along her feet, dabbing it at the wrinkles and creases, biting his lip as a surge of pre bubbles free, lubricating them even more. The human grabs each foot, firmly sandwiching them around his throbbing cock. The poor boy nearly came right there, undoing hours of progress, yet he pushed forth.

"Oh, fuck!" he cries out, slowly sawing his cock through her soles

"They feel good?" she chuckles, her toes drumming at the base of his cock.

He answers, but thrusting harder. He had to go slower at first, otherwise risking cumming instantly. Going slower meant he had time to build up his stamina, as well as get used to the creamy, impossibly soft flesh of Mrs. Garcia's soles stroking his trembling cock. He bucked his hips, staring between her and her feet, knowing this had to be a dream as he witnessed his cock sinking into the warm confines of her feet. Bryce's testicles clapped against her heels as he went harder, crying her name.

"Yeah? You love this, slut?" he hears the same voice, the corrupted latina voice.

"Yes. I'm a slut and a goddamn proud one." he answers.

"You'll never cum again without my permission, right?" Ms. Holt voices emerges from the woman's lips.

"Never! I'll only do it when you tell me." he quickly nods.

Bryce humped her feet harder, almost falling back when she takes over. Those skilled, hispanic feet stroked him, her toes tracing along the bulged veins of his cock, red polish shining in the light above.

"Do it, then. Cry out my goddamn name." she snarled.

The human met every stroke with a thrust, in bliss as her meaty soles molested his overflowing cock, copious amounts of pre bubbling from his cockslit. His manhood was almost numb with pleasure. That, and having been ready to cum for hours. His balls heaved with need. Her feet then began to feel different. He felt the plush touch of fur, claws poking at his hip every time he bucked. Snapping his eyes open, he saw the lynx's face and paws in their blue-ish glow instead of the teacher's.

"Cum."

"Ms. Holt!" he bellows, giving a final thrust.

Bryce's cock erupted like a geyser. The first shot actually missed entirely and splashed the whiteboard behind the feline. Her toes quickly curled over the human's tip, after seeing the impending mess to be made. He convulsed as short jets of thick, rich semen squirted, captured by the teacher's toes. Some shots were so strong, they evaded the lynx's digits, spurting between them to lash at her ankles. She growled, but shocked him to hear one of arousal, rather than hate. Her toes lifted, letting the rest of his seed fly forth.

"Fuck!"

He looked down, watching her paws pulling back to allow him to privilege of painting her soles. No one touched his erection, watching it throb and bounce with each delectable ejaculation. His cum flew like a bullet, audibly splashing her soles. One shot lashed over her pad, leading her to scrunching her toes down. The final burst, to their surprise, landed diagonally across the lynx's muzzle, applying a single pearly ribbon from her chin to her forehead, even landing in her mouth, agape with shock.

"Fuck." was all she could muster, tasting Bryce's semen.

"Fuck." he added to the expletive filled proclamations as he fell back.

The spent human fell backwards off the desk, his skull cracking against the tile as everything went black.


Bryce's eyes watered as they opened. Blinking, he remained still. The lemony smell of floor cleaner was the first thing he noticed. He laid in the silent, still room. Streaks of moonlight entered through the windows of the class, the blinds only pulled halfway down. He lifted his head, wincing in pain. One would think he was immune to pain by this point. The GoPro laid with its gimbal to his side. The LED indicated that video had stopped, for how long he did not know. He then realized he was laying on his backpack, which was still strapped to his body.

"Ouch." he wheezed, standing up.

Felt oddly breezy in the room. It was then he realized he was naked. His clothes laid kicked along the room, his cock throbbing with aches and pains, flaccid for the foreseeable future. His eyes widened in horror at the sight of his cum splashed across Mrs. Garcia's desk. Luckily, he didn't seem to hit any papers. Thank god this place didn't have security cameras. Bryce hastily located some tissues to clean up his evidence, before fleeing the school from the door Michael had rigged. This time, it opened without a hitch. He found his bike behind the same bush, covered in a morning dew. Oh shit. He checked his phone, seeing it was nearly five in the morning. He had to get home. Now.


The latch to his window quietly clicked as it locked. Bryce had tiptoed back into his room, successfully sneaking back inside his home as his parents slumbered away. He dropped his backpack down on his bed, sitting down with a quiet groan of pain. Yeah, he wouldn't be jerking off for a while. He might even need a fucking skin graft.

He removed the GoPro and pulled out the SD card, which he slipped into his laptop.

"Swear to god, if this works..."

The computer chimed as the device was successfully connected. Excited, Bryce opened up the folders, seeing an endless list of videos. Each one was only thirty minutes long, a setting he had made, so it would be easier to review the footage and pick back up where he left off. He started the first video.

"WHAT IS UP GUYS?! IT'S YA BOY RAMROD HERE AND TONIGHT-" Michael's voice erupted through his laptop speakers.

"Goddamn you." Bryce growled to himself, quickly muting the video.

Okay, so that video worked.

The computer chair squeaked as he leaned forward. Bryce watched with anticipation as he examined each video. There was nothing at first, besides the two of them walking together, punctuating the silence with brief comments on the empty halls of the school. He skipped ahead a few videos, just enough until their arrival at shop class. Bryce carefully studied the video, pausing it, going at slow motion whenever he thought he spotted something. Much like his paranoid mind at that time, the only thing captured so far was shadows. The kind of shadows that were normal and not some benevolent deity. He then watched the camera lifting to the ceiling, holding his breath as the noose came into frame. Yes! Bryce felt a coldness sweeping up his spine as he relived the moment. He watched himself zooming on the dangling symbol of vitriol. Not fast forwarding, he sat and waited, watching as the camera left and turned to the cowardly sheep. Yes, the footprints in the sawdust. He now recognized the familiar size and tread pattern. Yup, they belonged to the bitter gym teacher all right.

Bryce then jumped in surprise as the birdhouse incident replayed. The unexpected sound of splintering wood snapping and falling to the floor had made his past self and Michael yelp in fright. The camera zoomed in on the now ruined birdhouse, though nothing of note was discovered, much to his disappointment.

Bryce felt partially disheartened by the footage so far. The videos just showed a noose dangling, which wasn't necessarily paranormal in itself. The line of footprints wasn't much more compelling either as it could have been explained as a simple prank or something similar. Curse his naturally skeptical ways.

The next video was filmed inside of the history classroom. After all the paranormal events afterwards, Bryce almost forgot about the unusual incident with the pullcord. Much to his frightful delight, the GoPro had managed to document the string not only swaying on its own, but lifting into the air, forming the figure of a question mark. Now this was some true ghostly footage. Part of him felt that someone could easily argue it was done with fishing line or something, despite the obvious fact that the night vision would have at least capture light reflecting off of the line.

Curious, he started checking the ones from a few hours in. His heart raced as he saw the gym come into frame. He swallowed as he watched all the horrors playing out from before. The two of them reacted to the HVAC vents making a cat-like roar, which he remembered well. He sat on the edge of his seat, waiting for the shadow figure to come into view through the window. He heard Michael ask, "What the fuck is that?", but when the camera began to pan over, all the pixels on his screen erupted with indecipherable garbage.

"No!" he hissed to himself.

He tried another video.

"File corrupted."

Another.

"File corrupted."

One more.

"File corrupted."

He wanted to cry. Maybe it really was a dream and Michael drugged him or something. Hmm, Michael. Bryce pulled out his phone, sending off a text to the sheep, before plugging it in to charge. He then returned to the computer, checking the last bits of video. Again, a wash of broken pixels and chirping audio and visual glitches filled the screen.

"Wait, what?" his eyes narrowed.

Tapping a few keystrokes, he rewound the video a half second. He then went through frame by frame. His heart thumped with each tap of his finger, cycling frame after frame. Bryce then jumped in fright as the distorted, but nevertheless distinguishable face of Ms. Holt filled the screen. It was a quick flash of her face, the rest of the video showing nothing of significance. The human stood and met the silver orbs of her stare with his own. He glared at her still, unmoving face. He dared her to move. To blink. Flinch. Bryce stood his ground, his courage growing as he faced the woman. He stayed this way for an unbearably long time. Of course in a staring contest with a still image, there could be only one obvious winner. Satisfied that the image was just that, an image, Bryce allowed himself to relax. He took a screenshot of the video and closed out of the media player.

God, he felt like he could sleep for a week straight.

Standing up with a yawn, Bryce kicked off his clothes, leaving himself in just his underwear. He grabbed his backpack to unload the rest of the stuff he brought along. Unzipping one of the compartments, he reached inside, forgetting what happened to his flashlight. Expecting to touch metal, his heart sank at the touch of a rubber sole. Gulping, Bryce pulling out a massive blue and gold running shoe, its sister still inside the backpack.

Could it be? No goddamn way.

Bryce hesitated, inching his nose forward. He took a tentative sniff, eyes widening as the familiar musk hit his nose. With a quiet whimper, he fully crammed his nose inside, sucking up that addictive stink of the lynx.

The snapping crack of one of his dad's booby traps being triggered then alerted Bryce, but seemingly no one else. Tossing the shoe down, the human gulped and tiptoed over to his window. The glass was obscured by his blinds as he liked his privacy. He placed a finger over one of the slats, very slowly bending it down, just enough for him to peek out into the yard. The front yard was nearly pitch black, much like the other houses in the neighborhood. Only the distant glare of the sparse street lights and full moon above provided any light at all. Narrowing his eyes, Bryce could see the rising cloud of burnt gunpowder slowly lifting into the air in twisted strands, curling as it was blown away by a silent wind.

His ears then perked at the sound of his mattress creaking behind him. Bryce twisted his head to the side, holding his breath at the sight he prayed he wouldn't find.

His jaw dropped at the image of his bedspread being compressed by an unseen figure, the pillow sinking before his very eyes.

"Hope you don't mind if I stay a while with you." Ms. Holt calls from the bed.

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Pub: 05 Feb 2023 08:05 UTC
Views: 357